


Footy

by coeurastronaute



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, lexa is a really really good soccer player, the soccer au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-08-03 20:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coeurastronaute/pseuds/coeurastronaute
Summary: International Soccer Player Star Lexa au





	1. Chapter 1

The heat rolled off of the pavement in the afternoon. Stagnant and ornery, it listlessly bullied everyone in the streets until they were just as uncomfortable and oppressed, just as mad, just as sweaty and tired and beat up like the harsh summer day. The bustle of the street didn’t stop though, despite the heat, despite the heaviness. Instead, people milled about as best the could, fanning themselves with their hands or papers or ducking into stores, eating ice cream, and failing against nature itself.

Perhaps it was the summer day, but Lexa blamed her growing frustration at her inability to find the stupid coffee shop despite her GPS’ best attempts, on the ridiculous non-grid system her new city operated upon. Any normal place would just keep everything on right angles, not twisty back alleys that were full streets, or streets that suddenly turned into a park and patio of a restaurant. It was maddening.

It was in that thick, stifling kind of heat that she reconsidered every decision that led to her transfer. An ocean away from home, five time zones from everyone she loved, and very much out of her element, the sweat on her neck made her even more mad for no real reason at all.

It wasn’t as if it wasn’t her dream, to play for a top tier, elite team, to be the best, to play with the best, to change the game, to help little girls who might not have a chance to play. But something about that heat that June had in its angry fists, that was enough to make her regret it for the tiniest of shameful moments. 

Her phone once again told her she had arrived, and Lexa paused, wiping her brow, and staring at a different store front than every other time her phone gave her that answer. Behind her sunglasses, she squinted and peered and tried not to stand in the way of the current of the sidewalk too much.

All it took was twelve laps around the same few blocks. At that rate, she’d find and make it back to her apartment by next week.

The breeze of cool air was welcomed as soon as she opened the door and ventured inside the tiny café that was sandwiched between a cute little pharmacy and a cuter little bookstore. Everything in this country was cute, quaint, and about a thousand years old.

It didn’t help that people stopped her often, asked for pictures, criticized or applauded her efforts on the pitch. She couldn’t find her way to work most days without using her phone, and people already had opinions about her.

Overpriced, too slow, not defensive enough, good enough for back in the States, lucky but not talented. Lexa almost liked that more than the praise. It was a lot to hear the hopes and dreams and observations of her skills. It was easier to prove people wrong than live up to their dreams.

As soon as she caught her breath and pushed the sunglasses atop her head, she was met with the sports section on an empty table, her face staring back at her after her last goal the night before, pushing the team over in extra time. She swallowed thickly and put her sunglasses back on, careful to tug her hat back on.

A month ago, she was playing with her friends, she was in a country that believed the metric system was stupid. Now, she never knew what the temperature actually meant and the stadium was full when she played.

“You found it,” Luna greeted her after a moment, finally putting the paper down to turn the page. “And only… a half hour late.”

“I know how to get from my house to the practice field to the gym to the little diner that serves reasonably passable food,” Lexa sighed, taking the seat across from her new centre back. “Are we still in London?”

“God forbid you get out a bit.”

“My face is on a billboard outside. Kind of makes it hard to go out.”

“Isn’t it cool?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Oh my goodness,” her friend realized with a laugh. “You really are camera shy.” Lexa blushed and shook her head. “Top scorer in the league, World Cup MVP, Olympic medal winner, and you are literally not used to people thinking you’re good.”

“I came for coffee, not to be psychoanalyzed by my backfielder.”

“Look at you! You’re bright red!”

“I’m not,” she grumbled at the observation, despite the fact that she could feel the tingle in her cheeks.

“A little.”

With a deep breath and roll of her eyes, Lexa finally smiled at her friend. She was used to the teasing, she actually missed it. The newcomer who came in halfway through the season, it was hard to find a kind of balance with the already established team.

They ordered and chatted, and for a moment, the heat was gone and the day was theirs. They debated strategy, felt each other out. The hours ticked until it circled back to Lexa’s status as someone who had a billboard.

“You can be coy, but you’re used to it, right?”

“No. It’s not like this back home. People aren’t… it’s… No. It’s different.”

“I saw the pictures, the stories about you and Costia,” Luna reminded her, tilting her cup slightly. “You two were hot news.”

“That’s all we were. Just news,” Lexa shrugged.

“Good to know. I have the perfect girl for you.” Her friend had a devilish smile, a really kind of plotting, villainous thing.

“You can’t set me up. I just got here,” Lexa scolded, leaning back in her chair. “I’m not looking for anything.”

“Trust me, you’re going to need someone through the cold, British winter,” Luna explained knowingly. “It’s hot for like three weeks and then it’s soggy and sopping and just miserable the rest of the time.”

“How about I figure out where a grocery store is, and then we can chat about it?”

“What better way to help acclimate you, fully welcome you to the team, than to get you laid.”

She couldn’t help it. Lexa snorted into her mug at the suggestion. Her sister would like Luna. Maybe that was why she even agreed to the friendly meeting in the first place, to supplement and seek out similarities.

“I can’t even keep a cactus alive with how much I travel. I’ve moved into my apartment in the sense that the majority of my clothes still aren’t in a suitcase, but only because they’re dirty. I don’t need you to set me up.”

“Sounds like you need it more than I thought,” Luna countered.

“I don’t–”

“Excuse us, but you’re… you’re Lexa Woods?” a gaggle of teenagers approached the table warily, peering at the players cautiously. The ringleader was tall, at least sixteen. The rest weren’t much younger.

“She is, she is,” the back explained for her. “And let me guess, you guys are supporters, eh?”

“I’ve rooted for the Stags since I was a baby,” one explained. “My dad said you’re the best player he’s seen in twenty years.”

“That’s very kind of him,” Lexa smiled. “Tell him thank you.”

“I don’t… um. We don’t have anything but napkins for you to sign,” a younger boy, about twelve, offered weakly. “But do you think you could?”

“Napkins won’t do for lifetime fans,” the striker shook her head and looked back at Luna who chuckled. “How about a picture and then you give me an address and we’ll have some things sent over?”

“You don’t have to do that,” the oldest shook her head. “We just wanted to welcome you and tell you what an amazing goal that one was last night.”

“Thank you. You’re probably the best welcoming party I’ve had yet,” Lexa tried to put them at ease. “Now do you all play?”

“I’m goalie.”

“I play right wing.”

The chorus of answers continued. Both Luna and Lexa took their time with the tiny group of tiny adults. They took pictures and promised better autographs. They encouraged them and told them to practice until they couldn’t stand. It took cellphones ringing to remind them that they had parents who worried to get them to leave.

“See? You’re good at it,” Luna accused as they followed suit and decided that a few hours in a coffee shop was enough, and that a bar was a better alternative. “They liked you.”

“You’re not setting me up,” Lexa sighed, heavy and amused.

“What if she’s your soulmate and you’re passing it up for no reason at all?”

“My soulmate doesn’t even know I exist, and I like it that way.”

“On the pitch, you’re a shark. Out of the water, you’re a little puppy. As the veteran on the team, it’s my job to corrupt you, you know that right?”

Just like Anya, Lexa thought to herself as they made their way out into the night.

* * *

Even though it was nearing sunset, the park was busy and full of life. The stadium in the distance was calm and quiet after a tough loss earlier in the day. For a second, Clarke was grateful for the loss that she honestly didn’t care much about at all. If they’d won, there’d be celebrations and lingering camps and parties all through the park. Now, it was just alive with normal, with the quiet kind of afternoon that she didn’t want to end.

She filled up another page in her sketchbook, taking the time to relax, disappearing into the world so that she could convince herself that she was the only observer, that she was outside of it all.

Summer was meant to be the break, the vacation from stress. Now, she couldn’t even visit her parents without feeling the constricting hand of time and morality upon her throat. Summer was weekend trips, beach books, weekends in the country, cook outs, kisses in streets that never slept. Instead, Clarke felt like she was the only observer of the world, unable to connect to it, unable to break that plane that separated her from them.

Her father had cancer. They told her as the semester ended and her students turned in final papers, her parents sitting her down and trying to be upbeat. And Finn, the ex, the fuckboy that he was, lived up to the warnings her friends gave her. Raven disappeared for the summer, recruited for some motosport team. The season felt anything but normal, felt to be anything other than what she craved.

But here, with her pencil, Clarke disappeared, for just a moment, let June make her neck sweat, let it stifle her lungs a bit. Summer was the seasons of starts, and for the life of her, Clarke wasn’t sure where.

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted her.

And just like that, the universe proved her wrong yet again.

“I’m sorry, I just… I’m terrible at directions,” the stranger shook her head.

Clarke’s pencil stilled as she followed the silhouette up, starting at the shorts hanging on the hips, up to the exposed stomach, the abs that lived there making her swallow, up to the sports bra, up to the headphones that now hung on a long, slender neck, up to the point of a chin and the edge of a jaw, up to flyaways and sweaty hair in a tight ponytail, up to green eyes and a bashful furrow.

“What?” Clarke cleared her throat and tried to find some kind of normal. She wasn’t sure of the exact time, though she did recognize that she gawked longer than polite.

“I didn’t mean to bother you, I just… this is embarrassing. My phone died, and I have been lost for the past three hours.”

“You’re not from here, huh?”

“Is it that obvious?” she sighed with a small smile and unfamiliar accent. “I’ve been.” She shook her head and stuttered a bit, distracted by the girl on the bench. So out of her head and distracted, she hadn’t realized she approached a girl with eyes like that. “I work nearby. I just went for a run and got kind of turned around.”

“Been here long?”

“About a month. Can’t seem to figure out my way though.”

Clarke smiled and closed her sketchbook, unable to look at this stranger for too long without getting distracted and thinking thoughts she was baffled by having at all. She watched her abs move as she lifted her forearm and ran it across her forehead to get rid of the sweat there.

“Where are you heading?”

“Um, right, yeah,” she nodded to herself. “Uh, it’s. St. George? St. George and Thatcher. There’s a bank, and a coffee place. I don’t really pay attention well.”

“That’s…” Clarke furrowed and thought for a moment. “That’s way on the other side of the city.”

“Yeah. I kind of ran. Far.”

“I’d say.”

There was something on the tip of this stranger’s tongue, this kind of questioning gaze, this kind of willingness, like she needed Clarke to know something, to realize it.

“I like to just… keep running, so my head won’t get all jumbled,” she shrugged. “It was very needed.”

“Just take Franklin the whole way to Sixth toward the college. That should put you in a familiar area.”

“That sounds simple enough. Thank you.”

“You look very familiar. Have we met?” There it was. The flash of fear.

“I have one of those faces,” she offered, shaking her head. Clarke appraised her a little more, unable to decide if she recognized her face or if she just wanted to believe she could memorize it completely. “Thank you again.”

“Good luck.”

With a small nod, the runner took a few steps before putting headphones back into their place. She looked once more back at the girl on the bench and started to jog. And just like that, Clarke was stuck staring at the stadium in the distance and wondering how in the world someone like that could exist.

For a moment, it was a pleasant distraction.

* * *

The bar was full and loud and brimming with wasted potential and the frivolity that came from contagious joy. Laughter was a crescendo that bounced from group to group, echoing continuously from the various tables and barstools. In the warm, deep lights of the bar, the faces were shadowed in that gentle glow of cheeks and dimples and smiles.

“She was nice,” Lexa shrugged, growing self-conscious under the eyes of a few teammates. “We had a good time. What else do you want me to say?”

“We need more details,” Luna groaned.

“Come on, she’s allegedly your soulmate,” Sarah needled.

Bashful and unsure, Lexa fiddled with her glass and smiled to herself because her mouth wasn’t sure what to really do. She liked it better when everyone was debating that terrible call. Unsure how the conversation switched to her love life or lack thereof, it was dizzying.

“She was nice. We went to dinner and saw a show at a bar. I ordered her a cab and she invited me over, but we had a game, so I politely declined.”

“And you haven’t texted her back since we got back from Brussels,” Luna supplied. “Come on, Lexa. She’s perfect for you.”

“She was nice.”

“Yeah, I get that you think she’s nice. That’s all you had to say about her.”

“She never saw Star Wars. She made a few, rather colorful remarks about the band. And she kept asking me about being a recognizable soccer player. It was always about that. I don’t know. I didn’t click with her. She wasn’t fun.”

“She was nervous! You’re intimidating!”

Lexa scoffed and shook her head, grateful to take a gulp of ginger ale.

“I just didn’t really feel it,” she shrugged.

“That’s alright,” Sarah interrupted as more glasses were added to their table. “I have the perfect girl for you.”

“We have a game in three days. Can’t we talk about that?”

“We’re set for that,” Luna disagreed. “Tell me about your girl.”

As soon as Sarah started talking, Lexa tuned out, doomed to another blind date. It was nice of them to try, but Lexa wasn’t looking, she wasn’t particularly capable of thinking of much more than work, to be honest. She could take being married to her job. In fact, she’d already resigned herself to it years ago.

Costia was a fluke.

“She’s got amazing tits, too,” Sarah promised.

“On that note,” Lexa pursed her lips and smiled, pushing herself up from the booth. “Another round?”

“Yes please.”

It took effort, but Lexa made her way to the bar in hopes of avoiding all talk of her potential future wife that everyone was so sure was the One. The novelty would wear off, and deep down, she appreciated the idea of them caring enough on a personal level.

Her sister agreed with them, which was another challenge. Even from across the ocean, Lexa got lectures consisting of urging to try new things, to open up, to have fun. It was exhausting for everyone to have so many opinions about her, but she knew her sister spoke from a place of worry, especially after Costia.

“Could we have another pitcher?” Lexa asked as she leaned over the bar and asked politely. “And a ginger ale?”

As soon as the bartender went to work filling, she leaned and surveyed the crowd. Amidst all of the faces and groups, all packed tightly and impossibly close, it was a shift in the seas of bodies that led to her coming face to face with a familiar set of eyes.

As soon as it registered, the ocean shifted and she was gone despite Lexa doing her best to shift and find her.

“Here you go, hun,” the bartender interrupted the search in just enough time for Lexa to convince herself that it was a mirage.

“Thanks.”

Luckily, the group was going back to an argument over the strategy for the next game and the potential standing on the table. Still, Lexa thought about that girl who gave her directions. Such a quick and tiny interaction that impressed itself upon her memory in the tiniest ways.

Lexa was in her element when it came to talking about work. She was never good at her family, and she was never good at vocalizing thoughts and feelings. It was easier to run. For ninety minutes, she always knew what was happening.

After another hour, Lexa finally figured she’d put in enough time, made enough of an effort so that her sister wouldn’t give her too much trouble, and she politely excused herself from the group, citing an early morning and extra workouts in the morning. Sometimes, she just didn’t like the noise or the crowds and it got to be too much. After the accident with her mother, things were just different. Everything was different, but things in her head, especially.

The night air was a welcomed relief. It breezed along and soothed her warm neck, allowing her time to take a deep breath and actually hold it.

“I thought it was you,” a voice chuckled. “I almost didn’t recognize you with a shirt.”

“Me?” she swallowed and turned around as she paused just on the sidewalk outside of the newly familiar bar.

“You’re the only shirtless person I recognize.”

All at once, she knew she had seen that girl, the pretty girl who was sketching in the park, who tucked her hair behind her ear and ran her pencil under her chin as she focused. It had been that girl in the bar that got swallowed by the sea of faces.

“It’s you,” Lexa sighed and smiled for some reason.

“I take it you made it home okay?”

“I did. Thank you.”

They stared at each other and smiled for no reason at all. Clarke wasn’t even entirely sure why she followed the familiar body outside, but she caught sight and she couldn’t stay away. She wasn’t sure why, but here she was and she felt ridiculous.

Lexa shoved her hands in her pockets and shrugged against the fresh air that felt suddenly so much cooler after the warmth and humidity of the bar. The eyes in the dim lighting of the street didn’t help much either.

“It’s a bit of fate for us to wind up in the same bar, isn’t it?” the artist offered, out of breath and unable to catch it.

“It is.”

“What’s your name?”

“You don’t…recog–” Lexa furrowed before smiling at the confused girl before her. “Lexa.”

“Clarke,” she held out her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

They held hands and their breath and grinned like idiots because a pretty girl was touching them and for some reason it was a bit of magic, the summer kind of magic, that brought two strangers together in a city of nine million people and seven thousand bars.

“Are you leaving?”

“I have an early day at work tomorrow,” she explained, reluctantly taking her hand back. She needed another ginger ale.

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again,” Clarke dared.

“I hope so.”

There was a blush, Lexa was certain, and she was the cause of it. Even though it was dark, even though they were complete strangers, even though they were outside of a warm bar and in a warm kind of night, she knew it was all her own, and it was wonderful on that girl’s cheeks.

“What brings you out?”

“Just… some colleagues. They keep sending me on blind dates.”

“Perhaps I should go introduce myself and see if they set us up together,” she offered. “How have they gone so far?”

“Just one, but it was… fine.”

“Fine isn’t a word you want to associate with a date.”

“Yeah,” Lexa scratched her neck and moved from foot to foot awkwardly. “That’s why there won’t be a second. Though apparently everyone knows someone who could be perfect for me.”

“One of them has to be right, right?” Clarke offered with a smile.

“You’d think,” she returned it.

With a look over her shoulder, Lexa looked toward the street, looked at the sidewalk, looked at the trees and the river in the distance. She bit her lip and looked back at this girl in front of her.

“Do you maybe want to go for a walk?” she offered.

“More than anything, I wish I could,” the artist frowned. “It’s my friend’s birthday. Any other night, and…”

“No, no yeah, I understand.”

“I mean it.”

“Next time,” Lexa nodded politely.

“Would it be too forward to ask your number?” Clarke ventured.

“You want… you want my number?”

“Unless you believe in fate that much,” she smiled.

For a moment, Lexa considered it. She did believe in fate. She left up most of her decisions to the will of the world. It was easier.

“I actually do,” Lexa decided. “Third time’s the charm.”

“What are the odds of me finding you again?”

Oddly distracted by the girl who was an enigma and a half, who believed in fate with a faraway smile that was beautiful at best and absolutely stunning at worst, the blonde stood there and mimicked her stance, shyly slipping her hands in the pockets of her shorts.

“Better than you’d imagine,” Lexa promised, remembering all of the billboards with her face on it. “I promise I want to give you my number, but why not let the universe push us together again?”

“I’m game if you are, stranger.”

“I’ll see you then,” she promised. “Have a good night, Clarke.”

Left oddly confused by the interaction, Clarke watched the strange girl walk away again, still unsure as to why her heart felt like a hummingbird.

* * *

At first, all she could do was think about fate. June grew late and the sun really remembered how to punish. The days were longest and the nights kind of just bled into the next day, acted as slight reprieves from the intensity of the days.

The girl with the pretty green eyes and the awkward smile, she crossed Clarke’s mind every time she rode the subway or made her way out into the world, wondering if fate would play a factor or if they would never see each other again. It made the days a little more interesting, and despite herself, Clarke still believed in the magic of the summer, and perhaps even fate. She’d never considered it before, and yet there she was, trusting the universe.

“Hey kid, you’re not working today?” her father asked as she made her way into her parent’s home.

The heat tried to follow her inside, though it failed to get past the steps.

“Not until tonight,” she replied, kissing her father’s cheeks as she flopped down on the couch beside his favorite chair.

“Do you miss school?”

“I miss the kids, but having days off and enjoying the summer is nicer.”

“It’s a scorcher out there.”

“I love it.”

“You’re a weirdo, you know that?” he chuckled. “Your mom just left to go to work. Some shortage at the hospital.”

“I figured,” Clarke observed. “That explains the beer and snacks in the living room.”

“Don’t tell.”

There was always a quiet bond between them. There always had been. Where her mother was often rational and stern, Jake was full of jokes and mischievous. Everytime she visited, she chided herself for not doing it more. It was only a half hour away from her own flat, and yet it wasn’t a regular occurrence to stop by.

“Who’s playing?”

“Hasn’t started yet. But the girls are taking on Lilywall. You want to watch a bit?”

“Are you going to make lunch?” she ventured, earning a grin.

“I’ll get you a drink,” he chuckled.

Clarke sunk deeper into the couch and lazily watched the television. The fan and a/c felt nice, and frankly she’d watch pretty much anything to avoid going back out in the hot and steam that existed out there at noon.

“So how are you feeling, Dad?” Clarke called as she heard him putter through the kitchen. “You had an appointment on Monday right?”

“I’m good. Yesterday was rough.” His voice grew as he made his way back to the living room. “But I think it’s going alright. Doctors have stopped using big words, so I think I’m a pretty boring patient now, which is good news.”

“Mom said you haven’t been sleeping.”

“I sleep plenty,” he disagreed, handing over a can before taking his seat. “Plus, I get to guilt you into watching soccer with me, so I think this cancer thing isn’t the worst.”

“That’s a silver lining I guess,” his daughter rolled her eyes.

It was easy to talk to her dad. Clarke didn’t know she needed it, to just be normal. But a month into summer break, and with the weird way life seemed to be going, nothing felt real. The summer didn’t help, obscuring normal, keeping them away from reality in that way that those few months were known to do before the leaves started to fall. Clarke was oddly afraid that after his diagnosis, things wouldn’t be normal again. And then they were the same they always had been, and she was even more confused.

“Who’s that?”

“What?” Jake asked as he sipped his drink.

Clarke sat up from her languid position and stared at the girl seen in the jersey with an easy smile, stretching her hands toward her feet and joking with a teammate. A box of statistics appeared beside her face while the commentators sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher, nothing but a wonky trumpet in the background despite Clarke’s eager ears.

Three NCAA championship wins. Rookie of the Year. World Champ. Olympic Gold Medalist. Hermann Trophy winner. FA Super League Champion. Born in Philadelphia. Recently acquired.

“Holy shit,” Clarke whispered.

“Oh, so you see a pretty face and suddenly you’re into sports. I’ve been coaching for twenty years and I’ve never seen you–”

“I know her.”

“You know Lexa Woods?” he scoffed.

“Kind of. I mean. Wait. You know her?” she furrowed and looked at her father.

“Of course. The entire country, and world, knows her. She’s a phenom. Had a hat trick in the World Cup Finals last year. She’s amazing.”

“Fuck.”

“What’s this all about? You swore off footballers after Finn, which if you ask me,” Jake shrugged and looked back at the screen. “Is the absolute best news I’ve ever heard in my life. Makes me less worried.”

The camera stayed trained on the soccer player and everything made sense. Of course she worked nearby. Of course she went on blind dates. Of course those girls in the bar were soccer players because people took pictures with them and bought them drinks. Of course she swore off soccer players.

Clarke stared while she caught bits and pieces of words about the match and the player.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No, sorry. Wrong person,” she lied, and shook her head.

“Sure,” he rolled his eyes. “Just admit that you find her hot so we can get it out in the open.”

“Is she any good?”

“I can’t remember the last player I saw with instinct and the drive that she has. I think she’s going to be one of the best of all time,” Jake explained. “She’s fast, accurate, has vision. Seems like a good kid.”

Clarke nodded appreciatively and settled back into the couch, her beer can pushed against her chin and jaw as she furrowed and watched the game, appreciating it more than ever before. While her father spoke, she mumbled and nodded, she pretended to not be distracted by the girl running around and sweating and kicking and being tackled and getting up with vengeance in her eyes and smiling and hugging teammates when she scored.

The rest of the day was a blur, with Clarke excusing herself before it ended, still very confused about the sick game the universe was playing. She kissed her father’s cheek and staggered out into the summer afternoon in search of the small job she kept in the summer to keep busy and have money to travel.

Try as she might, she caught the end of the game at the bar, and she smiled despite herself at the girl who was alive and happy and somehow familiar who flopped on the grass as it ended with relief on her face.

At the end of the night, after her small shift at the restaurant, she laid in bed and fought it as hard as she could. And then she pulled out her phone, and she pulled up an instagram belonging to a certain soccer player she was certain was the girl fate was trying to push her toward.

The most recent picture that greeted her was just the top of her head, eyes and up, with the stadium in the distance and the giant, fifty foot poster of herself on it. Do you think she’ll figure it out eventually? She captioned it.

The next was a post workout that made Clarke gulp.

The next was a view of some woods.

The next was Lexa, covered in puppies.

The next, a plane bound somewhere.

For longer than she’d ever admit, Clarke scrolled and saw glimpses of a life. Of family and friends and things she liked. It was all too much. By the time she moved to twitter, she smiled despite herself, because below a quote about the game, was about a dozen tweets about meeting a pretty girl who had no idea who the soccer star was, and the rest of the world enjoying it.

It would seem fate has finally thrown us together again, Clarke wrote on the latest picture, clearly about her. You can thank my dad for forcing me to watch the game today.

“Son of a bitch,” she whispered with a small sigh as she let her phone fall to her chest.

* * *

“So a complete and total stranger that you met in the world, and yet neither of the two blind dates we set you up on were good enough?” the midfielder complained as she stretched beside Lexa. With a grunt, she moved her fingers to her toes.

The stadium filled with murmuring, a dull, oceanic kind of roar that always existed to nothing more than white noise before a game. Until the cheering. Until the booing. Well across the world for a friendly, the national team even did their best to get Lexa out of her shell, though itwas politely declined.

“It’s nothing,” she shrugged, moving her foot over her knee and pushing her elbow against it, twisting her back lazily.

“Perfect for you, huh? Noncommittal with a touch of romance.”

“I travel constantly. I’m married to my job. And after… last time… with Costia,” Lexa swallowed and switched sides. “It just… I don’t want to do that to someone. I’m happy. I don’t know why no one believes me.”

“I think you’re happy,” Casey interrupted. “I just think you can be happier.”

“Why is everyone obsessed with my love life?”

“Because they just want you to be happy.”

“But I am happy.”

“You’re a hot commodity. Trust me.”

“Ugh,” she complained, flopping back on the grass as she stretched her hips. In a movement, Lexa covered her eyes against the sun and tried to disappear. “I’m not!”

For ninety minutes she wouldn’t have to think of any of it. She wouldn’t have to think of the pictures of the cute blonde that she stalked every night. She wouldn’t have to smile when she thought about the well-wishes for the team that came from the teacher’s twitter. She wouldn’t have to blush at the idea of fate.

“Whatever you say,” she chuckled, looking up at the signs in the stands proposing to the striker. “You might want to tell the stadium that.”

“This just isn’t a good time to go liking a girl like that.”

“Like that?”

“A pretty girl,” Lexa shrugged. “Just. Shut up.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Casey grinned and switched legs, shaking her head at her friend’s wonderful misery.

Lexa laid out on the grass and shook her head, half torn between chasing this girl and half torn between running away like her life depended on it. None of her excuses held water, and none of her worry helped. So she put her mind back to work on the game, where it was safe.


	2. Chapter 2

The ride home after a game was one of the best times on the planet. Coming down from the high of playing, from the adrenaline of winning, from the pressure of the team and herself, from that glorious feeling of her muscles twitching with built up lactic acid from leaving every ounce of sweat and preparation on the field. It was an almost sacred time.

On the flight, most slept. Lexa usually read or relaxed, maybe snuck in a movie or something to numb the very excited and antsy part of her that came with the coming down she adored. It wasn’t often that she kept up on her phone, but something about the flight and her boredom and the antsiness made her scroll.

They were nearly home by the time she found a certain remark that made her pause. Fate did not disappoint her once again.

Anxiously, Lexa sat up as soon as she found the girl. She looked around as if she were about to do something illegal, as if at any moment someone would catch her, though deep down she knew there was nothing wrong about looking, she felt… she felt the tiny jokes and hard time her team would give her.

Satisfied that she was alone,she snuggled deeper into her sweatshirt and plane seat. Outside, the world passed, the night grew darker. The striker rubbed the soreness on her knee though it was not because it was worse than normal, but merely out of nerves.

For a moment she reconsidered, putting the phone into her pocket and clenching her jaw. Her foot tapped at the bottom of the seat in front of her before she sighed, long and heavy and gave up to herself.

When she was a child, her mother often joked that Lexa was her own babysitter. She had a strict moral code, and a police state-like vigilance over herself. While Anya was prone to sneaking out and being generally difficult and rebellious, Lexa was the opposite. NO one knew why. Her father certainly wasn’t like that, according to her mother. And her mother, well she was the one telling Lexa to sneak out with her sister just so she could have something to yell about sometimes. But Lexa was cursed with her own kind of conscious that she was only slowly learning to trick.

For instance, she could now lie to herself about this girl because it was just looking, right? It wasn’t like she was waiting around, and so there was no harm, no risk of getting more attached, no real risk at all.

It was the part of her that wanted to be attached that scared her.

The first few tweets were just silly, random things. One was an innocent retweet of a little video of Lexa’s goals from the game, and that made her smile into her collar. A bit deeper down were videos of songs, a few jokes and replies, some education-based government initiatives and politically motivated snide comments.

And then came the pictures.

Nervously, Lexa looked around again like she’d get caught with porn.

But from the overview, none looked to be that, just colorful squares and a pretty blonde peppered throughout.

She should stop, she argued with herself. But she was too deep.

Instead, she grinned when the first picture appeared. Twirling the end of her drawstring between her fingers, she bit at it a second later.

There was Clarke at a graduation for what looked like elementary students in miniature caps and gowns. There was a picture of freshly baked cookies. There were friends at a cookout. There were little words inked on pale skin, made visible by a slightly lifted shirt. There were car trips and books and music and lots of pictures in an apron at some restaurant. The more she scrolled, the more she grinned.

She stopped at the one of Clarke at a charity race. She stared at the girl who beamed with a medal beside her cheek, and she read the caption about her father

Of course she was, Lexa sighed. She had to be the daughter of one of the best football coaches in all of history, and Lexa’s all-around hero for most of her life.

“Fate,” she groaned and let her head loll back against the seat.

* * *

The little restaurant was nothing at all. It had enough tables for the regulars. It had good enough food and cheap enough drinks that it filled and emptied onto the patio. The atmosphere was always genial and calm and quiet. Clarke knew it better than she knew herself. It’d been her first job, her support through college, and even in the summer months, it was a nice reprieve from teaching and stress. It was a quiet slice of familiar for her.

Still, she caught the score and highlights and shook her head at the girl who lead the league in goals. Still, she couldn’t believe she almost thought fate would push her toward a soccer player.

It must have been comical.

“We’re closed,” she hummed as the bell rang and she finished stacking silverware on the side.

“Sorry. I just… I was in the neighborhood.”

As soon as she heard the voice, she knew and sighed before looking at the ceiling and asking the entire will of the world why this was so enjoyable for the forces at work to watch. Soccer players were bad news. It was that simple.

“I thought you were in Germany.”

“Poland,” Lexa shrugged, hands deep in the pockets of her shorts. “But you did figure it out then?”

“Okay, it only took me a little longer than embarrassing,” Clarke shrugged as she resumed her task of cleaning up behind the bar. “Honestly, had I not stopped by to see my dad, I wouldn’t have known. He’s a huge fan. He coaches.”

“An understatement,” the intruder mumbled. “So fate brought us together again?”

There was a bashful kind of grin there as they stood, strangers and nothing more.

“You literally had a game tonight. How are you here?” the waitress shook her head. “Wait. How are you here?”

“I’m running off of that post-game adrenaline.”

“Right.”

“I saw your comment a few days ago. I’ve been trying to usher fate along a bit. I’ve run past this place every day this week, but no luck.”

She had this air about her, this quiet, this calm, this strength, this worry, these thoughts that were impossible to not be endeared by. For a complete stranger, Clarke understood some of it, at least more than she thought she should.

“Isn’t that a sign?”

“I just don’t have the patience,” she shrugged again. “There was a little bit of fate. I took a little bit of circumstance and made my own luck.”

“But how did you know I was here?”

“I, uh, you know. Um. Internet.”

Clarke shook her head and untied her apron. Perhaps it was pointless to fight fate, perhaps this was the moment, the one where everything changed and nothing stayed the same. Perhaps all she had in front of her was a very bored soccer player who would break her heart like the last. Perhaps it was magic.

“So, what now?”

“I thought of a lot of really cool lines, like if we bumped into each other and stuff. I honestly hadn’t planned this part. You know, with the–”

“Adrenaline, yeah,” Clarke chuckled as she clicked off the lights in the back. “Well, what are they then, champ?”

“Huh?”

“What were you going to say?”

Clarke was distracted by the slope of her nose. The slight Roman tilt to the bridge of it, high and noble. The gentle part of her jaw. The way she dug her thumb into her palm to lessen the nerves.

“Marry me,” Lexa grinned.

“Right for the kill, huh?”

“I can’t think of any of them right now. Just. There’s a bit of fate here, isn’t there?”

Hopeful and eager, Clarke was certain she was party puppy herself. Lexa swallowed and watched the waitress move toward her.

“Do you want to go get a drink before the whole proposal thing?” Clarke ventured, turning off the final light.

“I don’t drink.”

“At all?”

“I like ginger ale.”

With a heavy sigh, Clarke appraised the girl in front of her.

“One ginger ale. On me. That’s all you get to plead your case.”

“I’m pleading now?”

“I don’t date soccer players.”

“Well I’m not sure I want to date at all, so this works out well,” Lexa decided, earning a smile.

She already knew it was too late, but that lone dimple sure as hell was the final nail in her coffin.

* * *

The riverfront was quiet. Tuesday was boring, even in July, but the stillness of the water, the quiet of the humidity, the wilt of the leaves, the curls of hair that refused to even battle the elements, the smell that comes at a certain temperature when the breeze picked up that is so innately summer, it strangled the city.

“My niece. She invited me as her Show and Tell object last year, and I had to stand there, in full uniform, while she explained what I did,” Lexa grinned as Clarke picked pictures for her to explain. “Then, she made me do tricks.”

“And you agreed to it?”

“Look at those dimples and those eyes,” she groaned. “I’m a sucker. And she’s my biggest fan. She wears a shirt with my name on it and I’m just… It probably fills me with the most pride.”

“She’s a cutie for sure,” Clarke grinned, taking a sip of her own ginger ale.

The pair leaned against the railing, ignoring proximity and the city and enjoying their own little world, as they had been for the past two hours. It wasn’t how she expected her night to go, but Clarke wasn’t terribly upset with a night like that.

“It was just me and Anya. We had this age difference that always teetered on this line of her mothering me. Then, after our mom passed, it just brought us together. I miss her a lot. My sister. And my mom,” she added, swallowing and chewing her lip before thinking about it too much. “Has anything ever happened to you, where when you look back at the past, you see yourself, and you just… it seems so far removed? You can’t imagine that person anymore?”

“Yeah,” Clarke sighed.

“What was it?”

“I liked it better when you were proposing.”

“It’s fate.”

Clarke took a deep breath and refused to meet those eyes. Those eyes were attached to that mouth, the same one that smiled when Clarke told her about some of her students and the things they said, or that frowned when she explained her dislike of the sport because of a shitty ex.

“My mom’s a doctor. Her father was a doctor. His was a doctor. It went back probably to healers in clans or something,” she shrugged. “And I put a lot of pressure on myself to do it, and I didn’t want to be a doctor. So I sabotaged myself a bit, I guess. Senior year of high school, I was admitted to the hospital for exhaustion. Which spiralled from there. It was a long year. And sometimes I’ll think of me in high school, and it’s a different person. I’m just… I’m happy now. I can’t remember ever having that feeling before.”

“I can’t imagine it.”

“A year ago we found out my dad has cancer. Things haven’t been the same since that, honestly. But I’m not far enough in the future to separate it yet, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Lexa nodded, fiddling with the tab of her soda can.

“Tell me your deep dark secrets now, World Champion Trophy Award-Winning Superstar with A Million Endorsement Deals.”

“Are you mocking me for endorsing products?” she laughed, twisting her side against the railing and facing the enigma of a girl who made her ache and fixed her up so quickly she hadn’t seen it coming. “I go through a lot of cleats. I have to get some for free.”

“What about sports bras and running shorts that you use on unsuspecting girls in the park?”

“Oh, you remember that?” she grinned, all mischievous and good and Clarke was certain a bit of the devil mixed in for good measure.

Lexa earned a blush. She saw it right there in the evening under the street light.

“Who were you before?” Clarke ignored her.

Lexa took a deep breath as well and tilted her head up to the sky with her eyes closed, enjoying the night and the warmth and the company.

“I can’t remember. I mean. I watch memories happen. I just don’t remember the motivation for much of it. Anya says I get all stuck in my head. I think I used to be happy and loud and she says I would make everyone laugh. But I can’t picture doing it.”

“What happened?” Clarke’s voice was tiny, but such was the appropriate volume to ask such things after midnight on a Tuesday in July.

“My mom worked really hard so that I could play. It was always just us. My dad pissed off sometime before I could know him,” Lexa shrugged. “She picked me up from practice even though she had to go back to work that night. We were talking about dinner. I remember that. She was laughing because I was hungry. I’m always hungry,” she smiled. “And then we weren’t. And I remember opening my eyes and she was just staring at me. Only we were upside down and there was glass and blood and the smell. I remember that a lot.”

“I’m… Lexa, I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I mean. I. Your’s is so much–”

“It’s not more or less than anyone else’s. It just is,” she stopped Clarke before she could fret over it. “My mom used to be very superstitious. She’d have prayers, toss salt over her shoulder, spit on my cheeks. Everything was meant to be. I never believed in it. Now it’s kind of just habits. But it was nice thinking of her when I ran into you twice.”

“I like that though,” Clarke smiled, leaning closer. “I think the summer is magic. I always have. I don’t know why, but it just… It feels like magic, doesn’t it? It was missing before someone asked me for directions. With my dad and stuff, the magic has been at a minimum.”

“A bit of fate then did us both some good.”

“Something like that.”

* * *

By two in the morning, the streets were slumbering despite the wonderings of two strangers who didn’t know where their feet led them, and frankly didn’t much care. If there was magic, it wouldn’t let the night end.

“I can appreciate that, but you’re wrong,” Lexa argued vehemently.

“I don’t care how much you love action movies. Big Trouble in Little China is not a cinematic masterpiece,” Clarke scoffed, unable to believe it.

“What about They Live?”

“What now?”

“I’m here to kick ass and chew bubblegum,” Lexa mimicked, arms out and full of fake guns. “And I’m all out of bubblegum.”

“Seriously?” Clarke laughed, pushing her slightly.

“Okay, but Robocop? Terminator? Lethal Weapon?”

“I mean, those are movies,” she shrugged while Lexa balked at the simple description. “I’ve never really been into them.”

“Oh my goodness,” the soccer player let her head droop forward, shaking sadly. “Out of all of the girls in the universe.”

“I told you I was hard to love.”

“You can just watch them with me. I’ll corrupt you yet,” Lexa offered, nudging the blonde to get back on the sidewalk as one of the first delivery trucks of the morning crept along, turning into the alley they passed.

“Making plans already?”

“I gave up fighting fate when I was hanging upside down in a car,” she shrugged. “Makes those penalty shots a little more tolerable, too.”

Clarke smiled to herself at the words. She wasn’t sure how, but she slid her hand around Lexa’s bicep and rested her chin on her shoulder.

* * *

While she was still very unfamiliar with the city, despite the beautiful buildings, despite the quiet and the slow, meandering walk they allowed themselves, Lexa couldn’t look at much else other than the girl who talked animatedly about her students and the state of affairs of her very nosy neighbors.

It was distracting at best, but the city took such a backseat to this stranger who was becoming not a stranger over the course of a few hours.

“When I was seven, my mom decided I needed an outlet for my energy, so she signed me up,” Lexa shrugged, oddly self-conscious when the conversation turned to her. It was easy to talk about movies and stuff, it was impossible to be honest.

“I can imagine you as a bundle of energy.”

“Something like that,” she grinned as she kicked at an old can on the ground. “Our neighbor helped out a lot, Mr. Nash. He’d drop me off at practice, go to games when my mom worked. He’s my biggest fan, to be honest.”

“I bet that’s a long list.”

“He was the original. His wife died a few years before we moved in, and he needed a hobby, so yelling at me when I kicked balls against the fence was his. And then he just kind of… became our family. Mia calls him Pappy. He has his own kids and grandkids, but he always helped us.”

“He sounds fun.”

“He introduced me to your dad.” Clarke cocked her head and paused their walk, making Lexa flustered at the admission. “I mean. Not in person. But this was back when your dad was coaching, and he won three years in a row. Mr. Nash dug out old games and I watched him play. He was… It was amazing. I would practice moving like him.”

“How’d you figure out he was my dad?”

“Pictures on your… you know. I saw him and I got so mad at fate,” she chuckled.

“So this has been about twenty years in the making?” Clarke laughed with her.

“Cosmic long game,” she agreed. “Is that why you don’t date soccer players? Grew up around them?”

“No, most were fine,” she shrugged. “All it takes is one though. A rookie jerk who broke my heart. Swore them off after him.”

“Was he as good as me?”

For a moment, Clarke considered it and wanted to tease, but she could see the genuine curiosity. They stood on the corner and waited for a light to change despite there being no traffic at all, as if they waited, and time would wait, too.

“He’s rubbish,” Clarke finally admitted. “But I doubt anyone is as good as you.”

“You’d have to watch more than one game to know that though.”

“My dad said you were the best he’s seen. I trust his expert opinion.”

“He said… You mean. Wait,” Lexa stopped walking as Clarke continued. “Jake Griffin said I was– Clarke! Wait! You have to tell me every word he said.”

With a shake of her head, the daughter of Lexa’s hero rolled her eyes and waited for the soccer player to catch up.

* * *

“Sorry,” Lexa swallowed and blushed, averting her eyes from Clarke’s as she finally slid into the bench that they found by the bridges. She handed over a cup of coffee and a little paper bag with some breakfast in it.

Clarke had already mocked her from afar as she got stuck taking pictures with a few apparent fans before entering the café across the street. She gave herself the five minutes they were separated to really think about what she was doing, about how she’d suddenly spent six hours walking around the city with this perfect stranger who was delightfully rambly and perfectly kind and decent and too obsessed with bad movies.

“It’s cute. That little girl was so happy to see you,” Clarke promised as the soccer player sat down.

They sky was grey, was quiet and not really worried with waking, though the streets picked up, the foot traffic growing as the inevitable buzzing of alarm clocks woke the world despite the two who sat on the bench as if they had nowhere else to go.

All down the river, barges pushed and boats moved as much as they could, their pace leisurely and undeterred. Across the water, on the other bank, businesses and buses billowed up and hummed along, as the volume began to be turned up.

“She reminded me of Mia.”

“When do you get to see her again?”

“My sister is bringing her husband and Mia for the playoffs and such, if we make it. Probably in the spring,” she grinned and took a sip of her own coffee. “I’m so excited. I’m going to take her to see a castle and she’ll watch me play.”

“I wonder which she’ll like more.”

“The castle, definitely. She gets bored at my games,” Lexa chuckled, carefully tearing a piece of muffin from inside her bag.

For the morning, right there in the middle of town, as the city woke up and the world failed to realize they were missing, the two just talked, just sat and talked and were anything but what they always were, which was alarmingly refreshing and terribly addicting.

Lexa was already terribly fond of the way Clarke used her hands to explain things. She kind of liked her eyes, too. There was also that terrible problem of her damn lips and how much she wanted to kiss them, but she refused to think about that for too long.

“You still never explained the blind date things,” Clarke pressed, cocking her head slightly. She felt Lexa stretch out her long legs and adjust closer. “That your teammates were determined to set you up on,” she explained when she earned a cocked head.

“Oh! Oh. Yeah,” she cleared her throat. “I um. You know. I guess. I just. They said I was too serious. I needed something outside of work.”

“And none of them stuck?”

“It wasn’t meant to be,” Lexa decided. “Now. How do I get around this No Footballers rule you’ve enacted?”

“Switch jobs.”

“There is a pretty significant clause in a pretty ironclad contract that would forbid that,” she wagered. “What if I just promise to never cheat on you and win the championship.”

“Just a championship?” Clarke pfft’d.

“What else can I do?”

It was hopeful and eager, but Lexa meant it. She’d probably try to set a record for goals in a single game if Clarke asked her to, because this girl. This girl.

“I’ll try to think of something.”

The grin that came was mesmerizing and catching. Lexa leaned back and felt Clarke’s shoulder against her own, and she smiled too.

* * *

There kept being reasons to not leave each other. There was drinks, and then a walk, and then coffee, and then breakfast, and then slowly meandering toward the closest apartment. But the reasons were dwindling and time was happening despite their insistence that it stop.

The day opened up and early morning dawn became full morning, became traffic and people in suits and two very out of place and sleepy wanderers amidst the chaos of structured society. Lexa just wanted Clarke to hold onto her arm again, like she had the night before, because that was something. Clarke just wanted to stop smiling so much and trying to memorize Lexa’s voice and how her laugh started, soft and deep in her lungs before making it to her lips.

They debted movies. They argued about home. They complained about the future. They mourned the past. They offered assurances and guesses based on just a few hours and a gut instinct. They joked and teased and flirted and forgot what it meant to be part of reality.

But nights end. Days start. Lives happen.

“This is me,” Clarke finally stopped in front of her building. The stadium and the park poked itself out just a few blocks away. Lexa almost recognized the place.

“I. Uh.” Lexa took a deep breath and fidgeted in her pockets again. “This was fun. I had a good time.”

“Better than fine?”

“Much better than fine,” she nodded. “Would it be terrible to ask your number?”

“You don’t want to let fate decide any longer?”

“Listen, you can’t trust fate too much. It’s just a nudge. You make your own luck,” Lexa explained, the self-appointed expert on the subject.

Intense eyes searched her, debated, and Lexa felt very small under eyes like that, very raw and very open. But she stood a bit straighter and she tilted her chin up, ready to fight.

“I can’t believe I’m going to break my no soccer players rule for you,” Clarke sighed and dug in her pocket for some kind of paper. She pulled out a single dollar from the night before and wrote on it.

“I’m going to use this to ask you on a date,” Lexa explained as she looked at it and asked permission once again. “Just so you know. You don’t have to give it to me if you’re uncomfortable with that.”

“I wouldn’t be giving it to you for any other reason.”

“Summer magic, huh?” she grinned, shoving the bill into her pocket.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Still, neither wanted to move. Not even when the door opened and a neighbor came out, carefully shuffling past them on the steps. Both simply leaned over the railing and let her scootch past.

“I should let you go on then,” Lexa nodded to herself.

Before she could register it, she felt arms around her neck and a big kind of hug strangling her. Her own hands remained at her side for a moment before she could translate what was happening. Clarke’s chest was on her chest, her arms were strong around her neck, her cheek was pressed against her own, and all across her body, Lexa felt her. She smiled into Clarke’s shoulder and closed her eyes, taking a big breath of that memory.

“Thank you for giving fate a nudge,” Clarke whispered.

“Anytime.”

Clarke untangled herself and made her way up the steps while Lexa remained there at the bottom one, fiddling with the new dollar bill in her pocket, overjoyed and unsure what to do with it. Bashfully, she waved as Clarke gave her a final goodbye. Tired as the soccer star was, she glided all the way home.


	3. Chapter 3

The morning was still muggy. August was unrelenting, not bothering to provide any sort of relief to the sweating city. The doors all swelled and creeked, while humid air did its damndest to infiltrate cold rooms and shops. Even before the sun came up, the sizzle in the streets was stifling and suffocating.

Even after the game, Lexa couldn’t miss a morning run. It helped her learn the city, something she still struggled with mapping. Old baseball hat tugged down, Lexa was able to disappear and clear her head. It’d always been a habit she had, to run and run far when she had to think. Her mother would always tell her to try to stay in the state when she started off.

Nothing changed in a new country. Nothing changed after a good game with two goals and an assist. Nothing changed after the great date with the teacher. But Lexa had a lot to think about, and nothing felt better than the oppressive, violent morning heat that sucked her energy dry.

“You’re a freak of nature,” the voice interrupted the music in her headphones causing Lexa to slow, her feet slapping against the pavement as she tried to catch her breath from a ridiculous kind of sprint for the past few blocks.

“Good morning to you too. Or is it night?” she laughed.

“Your niece has decided that her summer bedtime is late.”

“Precocious one she is,” Lexa wiped some of the sweat from her forehead before adjusting her hat.

“She passed out a few minutes ago. Thought I’d see if you were up or still asleep after a night spent celebrating,” Anya explained.

In the background, Lexa could hear her sister cleaning up dishes and adjusting the phone on her shoulder. She smiled at the thought of her there, in her kitchen, across the world. It made her homesick, which she never thought to experience ever before in her life.

“You know me, always at work.”

“Just once, a leggy blonde will answer your phone because you’re drunk or sexed up. That will be the proudest moment of my life.”

“Not the leading scorer in the league thing or the multiple championships and endorsement deals?” she chuckled, looking both ways as she jogged across the street.

Already in the morning, the world was waking to another angry summer day. There weren’t many left, and the weather itself wanted to let everyone know to savor it with the gift of a blanket of humidity that was so thick it could almost be swam through.

“You work too hard.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“I mean it.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I went on a date a few days ago. And it went well.”

“Oh?” Anya perked up at the news and Lexa scolded herself for falling into that trap.

“Shit.”

“I want to hear all about it. Let’s go. I’ve got my glass of wine. Enlighten me, Casanova.”

Still jogging, Lexa finally slowed to just a walk, putting her hands over her head as she squinted up at the street sign, trying to figure out where she was, officially. Everything was always barely familiar.

“It’s fate, An,” she smiled to herself, chin tilted toward the sun.

“Oh no…”

“Come on. I don’t say that easily.”

“I know. It just. You’re okay, right?”

“I’m finally having fun for once, and now you worry,” Lexa rolled her eyes as she held up her hand to thank the car that let her across the street. “You just said you dreamt of a leggy blonde in my bed. We share that dream.”

“I was talking about a stranger. You’re talking about fate.”

“What’s wrong with fate?”

“Lexa… come on…”

“No, what is it?”

The street suddenly felt full. The sun broke the tops of the buildings, crawling along the storm drains and beaming at those who were up and braving the world once again. Lexa dodged people and moved toward a street she thought she recognized.

“For you to say things like that just makes me think you’re very serious and this isn’t about just sex. You’re always so serious… for you to talk about fate… I don’t know. Just. Be careful, would you?”

“It was one date.”

“You said it was fate. “

“Okay, it’s like a joke we have.”

Her feet still pounded out a regular rhythm as she navigated the city by pure instinct and distracted disinterest. It didn’t matter where she was going, just that she kept moving. Life stayed orderly that way, stayed organized and neat as long as she kept moving.

“You never joke about fate. You’re the most superstitious person I know.”

“No,” Lexa disagreed with a smile. “Mom was.”

“Yeah, well. Tell that to your stinky ass socks.”

“That’s luck, not fate. Geeze. Keep it straight please.”

“I love you, kid.”

“I know,” she shook her head and squinted slightly as she caught a familiar hue of blonde in the crowd. It couldn’t be. That’d be… well that’d be a bit more of the fate that she just couldn’t begin to fight. Plus she was sweaty and gross and for the life of her the magnetism was too much to avoid.

“Wait. Hold on. Is this the girl that didn’t know who you were?” Anya suddenly remembered, sitting up quickly on the couch, waving her hands for her husband to be quiet despite him not making a noise.

“Yeah,” she grinned wider. “That was kind of nice.”

“Okay, it’s adorable and junk. But she’s not some loon is she?”

“I’m not sure,” Lexa decided as she found herself jogging behind a girl in a loose tank top and her hair up in a bun, yoga mat slung around her shoulder.

“Well that’s what I want to hear when I’m across the planet–” her sister ranted, continuing to give a long warning and a familiar diatribe for Lexa to be careful. It was meant in reference to her physically from some stalkers. But deep down, both knew it was to protect her heart.

Clarke turned when Lexa touched her shoulder, relieved it wasn’t someone else. Just like that she stopped moving and all of the chaos caught up to her, as if it’d been running in a line behind her and hadn’t looked up quick enough to hit the brakes, rear ending her with a long line of disorganized thoughts grumbling about insurance rates.

“I gotta go,” Lexa muttered into her headphones.

“Wait! I want to know–”

“Hey,” Clarke breathed, oddly relieved to see the familiar face tucked beneath the sweaty baseball hat.

“Fate throws us together once more,” Lexa smiled.

“You can’t keep using that. I’ve already gone on a date with you.”

Clarke rolled her eyes but smiled anyway at the antics of the girl who was still wearing not enough with the sweat and the muscles and the hips and everything dirty dreams are already made of, but only furthered by the real thing. 

“A good date. A great date, even,” the soccer player proposed. “Dinner, a good band. There was wine. Enough wine for you to kiss me.”

“It was better than fine. What are you doing here?”

“I was out for a run. I think,” she bartered as she tugged her headphones out of her ears. “The better question is what are you doing out so early?”

“Oh, well. I mean. It’s not that early.”

“Last night you literally told me you were never leaving your bed ever again before school started,” Lexa smirked, tugging her phone from her pocket and wrapping the headphones around it.

“You can’t laugh.”

“I would never.”

“I mean it,” Clarke pointed sternly.

“Try me.”

“I’m… you know. I went on a date with a professional athlete. I figured I should try to work out,” she blushed, oddly embarrassed by the answer. “I mean. Just… Look at all of….” her hands waved slightly in Lexa’s general direction.

The athlete cocked her head slightly before following Clarke’s eyes and looking down at her own stomach, bare and tan and well… just there. She never considered it. Her legs were always muscular. Her knee bore scars from surgeries. Shins were beat up and bruised. Her body had purpose, and she liked how it worked. It wasn’t for the look of it. Though Clarke’s appreciation would be new motivation, that was for sure.

“You have a… your body is… I mean what I mean that there’s. Just…” Clarke blushed and closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath to regain some sort of composure, finally dropping her hand before meeting Lexa’s amused glance again. “You look– Just look at you, okay?”

“I did get a degree in Astronomy. If you ever get sick of oogling just my body. There’s a brain, too.”

“I don’t know if I’d ever get sick of it.” The words popped out before Clarke could realize she was saying them, but when she heard, she turned deeper red.

“So you do yoga?” Lexa cleared her throat.

“I usually go once or twice a week, but my friend invited me again, so I thought why not?”

The crowds still moved around them, as they acted like rocks in the stream of the sidewalk. Lexa watched her adjust the mat on her shoulder and fan herself slightly.

“I’ve never tried, though my sister keeps telling me I need it,” she tried. “Maybe you can teach me, and I’ll take you running or to do some of my drills.”

“I’m okay with you being the buff one,” Clarke scoffed.

They were quiet, both suddenly aware that the joke fate was playing was perhaps a little too pointed. They got the message. They appreciated it. They both tried to doubt it and when they weren’t together, dissect it and tell themselves it wasn’t anything, though deep down, they each knew the truth. This was something. Not just new, not just novel, not just short and violent to burn out quickly like a match head. It was something.

“So we have another date tomorrow,” she finally tried.

“We do,” Clarke nodded.

“Should I just wear this?”

“Please wear more clothes so I can form words.”

“See, the problem is, you could be in a nun’s habit and I can barely form words. At least I know I can even the playing field a bit by flexing.”

“Clarke! Hey, sorry I got distrac– Holy hell,” a stranger approached in similar garb as the teacher. “You’re Lexa Woods.”

“I am. Nice to meet you,” she smiled and held out her hand politely as she’d done a million times before. It was habit, that she slipped into instantly.

The sun shone brighter until the day was absolutely a waste. Not one thing could be done in a heat that was so overpowering before breakfast. And the city knew it.

“You weren’t kidding. You’re going to need to work out every day,” she whispered to Clarke who just shook her head. “Hot as hell though. You nailed that part.”

“I can hear you.”

“Right, right,” she nodded.

“Sorry. Lex, this is Octavia. The person who got me out of bed at this obscene hour.”

“The one I can thank.”

“Tickets to a game is all the payment I need,” Octavia grinned, all cheshire cat and knowing.

“I’ll leave some at the gate for you both in two weeks when we get back from Spain.”

“You don’t have to,” Clarke started. “She’s kidding.”

“Let the woman make up her own mind,” her friend insisted. “We’ll take four.”

Lexa shared a look with the girl who kissed so well she thought her lungs would explode. In truth, she was powerless against that blue that was like ice in summer, like the cold kind of water when the sun burns your skin and the coolness soothes away the hurt. If her friend wanted tickets, Lexa was more than willing to buy her good graces.

“It’s really not a problem,” Lexa promised, despite Clarke’s worrying and mouthing her apology. “I won’t keep you both from your morning. My sister’s been calling me nonstop since I hung up on her.”

It was purely polite and it was endearing to Clarke, how considerate and at ease Lexa was at slipping into a role like that. There was no awkwardness, no disinterest in her own friend, just a polite refusal to inject herself, and that was oddly satisfying after Finn.

“It was nice to meet you,” Octavia offered. She nudged her friend slightly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Clarke smiled.

“I can’t wait,” the athlete breathed. She hesitated for a moment before placing her hand on Clarke’s hip and kissed her cheek. “Have a good day, Clarke. I’ll see you at the game, Octavia. Please make sure she wears the proper jersey. I trust you to outfit her properly.”

“Done and done.”

With just a nod, Lexa took up jogging again, plugging her headphones back in her ear. The two friends stood outside of the studio and watched her leave, not sure what to say or what just happened.

“Holy fuck. You’re dating Lexa Woods.”

“I went on one date with her so far,” Clarke corrected.

“You forgot to mention how hot she was in person.”

“Yeah, it’s a problem,” she nodded, not taking her eyes off of the disappearing girl in the baseball hat. The crowd soon swallowed up the view completely, breaking the trance.

“Let’s go get you a jersey.”

“You meet her for two seconds and you get free tickets. What is wrong with you?”

They bickered until they let themselves get swept up in the morning crowd, and just like that, the day officially began, fate and all.

* * *

_I’m sorry again about O. Tickets really aren’t necessary._

Clarke fret and reread the text a thousand times before finally sending it and tossing her phone on her bed like it’d burned her.

Freshly showered and no longer heat-damaged in her brain and thinking, the whole entire interaction replayed in her head, making her blush once again, dying of second-time first-hand embarrassment.

_It’s really not a problem. Barring a horrendous second date, I was going to ask you out after that game anyway. PS. I’ll be in Spain for 10 days starting next week._

As soon as the phone buzzed, Clarke was hopping into her bed and grabbing it.

_An international friendly, if I’m not mistaken._

_We’ll make a footy fan of you yet, Griffin_ , Lexa responded, making Clarke grin into her pillow as she rolled around on the bed.

_Well, with Spain’s switch to the 4-5-1, it might be a close game. The offensive power they have is going to be hard for your defense, but their goalie is weak on the high right side. I expect a few goals._

For a moment, Clarke reread what she said and cursed her father for poisoning her brain with just useless facts and knowledge about a sport she generally avoided at all costs.

_Alright, I’m not ashamed to admit I’m extremely turned on right now by that display._

Clarke took it back instantly. She loved her father and his copious knowledge that he force fed her as a child.

_The fresh-from-yoga look didn’t do it for you, but team strategy is what gets you going?_

_Whisper time of possession stats to me and I’ll be a goner._

_I’m not 100% sure you’re joking_ , Clarke smiled to herself, oddly entertained by the girl on the other end of the line.

_I’m not entirely sure I am either._   
_To be fair, you in any look makes me a goner._

_So you mentioned a proper jersey?_

Clarke wasn’t sure what she was doing, but despite herself, she made her way into the living room, grabbing the bag that sat on the counter, courtesy of a meddlesome friend who kept her word for free tickets.

_Wouldn’t want you in the stands naked! Show some manners!_

_How’s this?_

Smiling very big, so big that her cheeks squinted her eyes in a silly face, Clarke showed off the jersey she picked out with Octavia’s help and encouragement. In the mirror she turned around and showed off the name and number and her very short shorts.

The ellipses appeared after the images were sent. Then they stopped. Started again. Stopped for a long while. Nervously, Clarke dreaded the response.

_Wow. You’re… That’s my… I’m speechless._

_So tomorrow?_

_You knock my socks off. I mean that. I’m glad I gave into a lil fate._

_Me too._

Clarke grinned and flopped over the back of her couch. She wasn’t used to having any kind of flirt game, but Lexa did something to her. It was just easy. It was fun. It was earnest.

_Tomorrow, Lexa responded._

* * *

By the time school started again, Clarke had seen two full games. One in person, and one on television with her father. She’d worn the jersey six times. She’d gone to work out twice as often as normal. She’d gone on three dates and had one solid hang out with the soccer star. And most importantly, there’d been over a dozen kisses, about half of which had been deep and good and dirty enough to make her perpetually miss Lexa.

She was a good kisser.

They took it slow. As slow as they could and as their fear told them was necessary. Clarke still had a lot to process with her father. Lexa still had a lot to do in her life. While both made time, spent time together, they were not in a rush. They agreed on that.

But when they weren’t together, as much as when they were, there was this tension between them. The double layer to their words shrouded their meanings so they both lived between this grey area of flirting and being completely honest when they said they were happy with the pace.

For the moment, with Lexa far away for the past week, Clarke was currently leaning more toward perpetually horny and sick of wasting time. It was impossible to be any other way when she saw pictures of Lexa sweaty and working out. It was impossible to think of anything else in the world.

Over the course of their summer though, Clarke learned about fate in a new way, through Lexa-tinted glasses. She liked her many moments. Lexa was comprised of moments. The moment she actually tossed her head back laughing and pressed her hand over her chest, as if her heart was ready to leap out with joy. That was a moment Clarke wouldn’t forget, how in the candlelight of the little restaurant by the river, Lexa was happiness, personified.

And there was the moment before Lexa kissed her. The moment when she was pressed against the cool brick of her building after a date. The moment, even in the dark, when Lexa’s hands were on her hips and she felt her hand move to cup her neck, and she held her breath while Lexa kissed her, and the summer was suddenly too hot, even in the chill of the night.

And there was the moment after she kissed her, when Clarke kissed her back, when Lexa kissed her cheek goodnight and skipped down the steps, lighter than a breeze.

And there was the moment she yawned too much while trying to explain some celestial phenomena in the middle of the night.

And there was the moment in the park while they laid on the blanket for their picnic and dozed in the warm sun, and Lexa took a picture that Clarke found herself staring at for hours. Because it was them, and they were happy and peaceful in the filtered sunlight.

There were moments, and Clarke was stealing them all for herself. Because they were taking it slow, and the moments accumulated in a different way because of that, which was new and wonderful and sexually frustrating.

“Buenos dias, tigre,” Clarke smiled as she greeted the player in a different country. “How are you?”

“Sore,” Lexa grunted. “I just got done icing. I just wanted to see how your second week of school went.”

“How thoughtful.”

“I try, I try.”

“It wasn’t terrible. Getting back in the swing of things is hard, but today was great,” Clarke murmured as she cleaned up her classroom for the weekend. “My kids were all chattering about the game tomorrow.”

“I had the same problem with my team,” Lexa realized. “Chatter all day, excited to hear about my next date.”

“What have you told them about the last one?”

“That it was good. A good third official date.”

“What’s the difference between official and not?” the teacher teased.

“I don’t know… you just… know, right?”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” she smiled across the line. Clarke heard it in her voice. “So, do you have plans to watch a certain game tomorrow?”

“I do. Cookout at my parent’s place.”

“And you’ll be wearing a special jersey?”

“I will be, yes,” Clarke blushed.

“That’s all I needed to know.”

“Come home after and take me on another official date.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

With a smiled, Clarke leaned against her desk and stared out of her window while she listened to Lexa. It wasn’t much, but it was a nice moment to have. It was only then that she understood that she was dating Lexa Woods, international soccer star, and only then, when she spoke about training and the travel schedule, did Clarke realized how absolutely daunting it could be.

But that only lasted a moment, a scary, frightful moment, before Lexa made her laugh and she forgot to be afraid of good things.

* * *

“You played really well.”

“Thank you.”

“But are you happy?”

With a groan, Lexa dug deeper into her couch and covered her eyes with her arm, already annoyed by her sister. It wasn’t that she was completely bothered, just that sometimes being mothered was exhausting, though she knew it was simply because she was out of practice. Her sister, on the other hand, was well rehearsed in her spiel.

“I’m very content with my life, thank you.”

“You just look so focused when you play,” Anya pondered. “I’m always convinced you’re miserable.”

“The adjustment was difficult, but I’m enjoying living here, and I love the team. It’s been good for me.”

“We’re excited to visit you. Mia can’t stop talking about it. I’m convinced she’s picking up an accent just waiting.”

Lexa smiled despite herself because her niece was the cutest and she was still oddly homesick. Despite her adapting, despite her not having time to even miss breathing, let alone her family, she still had those seconds of stolen brainpower that made her miss them. She was human.

“I’ve already got you all set up. Just email me your flight information as soon as you get a chance.”

“Have you decided if you’re going to let us meet this mysterious teacher of yours that you haven’t sealed the deal with despite, what is it, about a month of dating?”

“We’re not… no. It’s not dating,” she sputtered. “We’re… seeing each other.”

“My mistake.”

“And no. I’m not sure yet.”

“Embarrased of us?” Anya gasped.

“No. I just… It means something to do that, and I would rather not go through all of the meanings and the words and things. Not yet.”

“Have you met her family?”

With another groan, Lexa rolled over and tried to melt into her couch cushion like a lost dime.

“Are you keeping score?”

“You’re damn right I am.”

“I like her a lot, Anya,” she finally breathed the words out.

“Well go bang her already then. Lock her down. Show her what you’re working with.”

“Okay. I have to go now.”

“No you don’t,” her sister retorted.

“I do. I have to go pretend that I’m adopted.”

“Shut up.”

* * *

It wasn’t that she showed off when Clarke came to her games, just that the first two happened to be some of her best games of the season was merely happenstance. Coincidence. Fate, even.

That really was part of it.

The pitch was always a place that was free from the world, from every other person on the planet. It was not just a microcosm, a tiny little world distinct from all else, but rather it was it’s own galaxy, it’s own universe, expanding and contracting at will, so that all else was so minute it couldn’t make a sound.

That was what it felt like when she ran out for the first time. And if she happened to show off a little when Clarke was watching, well, the universe allowed it.

It was life and it was her own kind of defense that kept it slow and leisurely. Clarke had a regular job, and Lexa had things to do. They had lives, and they were not jumping. That was what Lexa told herself.

And then she would look at Clarke in her jersey and she would have thoughts about how quickly things could go.

“So date four was good?” Lexa asked as she caught her breath from kissing Clarke like her life depended on it.

“Date four was great,” Clarke nodded, grabbing hips and rolling against the wall.

It was her first time in Lexa’s apartment, but she didn’t get a good look at anything. Still in the jersey that said Woods, she had lips on her neck, and all manner of slow going was gone. Whatever was happening was barrelling forward at an unstoppable pace.

“Is it weird how much I like you in this jersey and at my games?”

“Yes.”

Lexa chuckled and pinned the teacher against the wall. There was fate right there, that led to it. And she didn’t want to stop. She couldn’t.

“But I like watching you play. I think you’re amazing,” Clarke promised.

“Do you want to stay tonight?”

“You’re damn right I do.”

Clarke kissed Lexa again, tugging her hair, latching onto her shirt. There had been a few drinks at dinner after the game. There had been lots of make outs leading up to it. But sweaty Lexa, that was… celebratory and humble and passionate. Clarke didn’t stop.

Her jersey went first, despite how much it was loved. Lexa tugged it and even in the dark, she stared at the new skin made available to her.

Hips directed her into the bedroom. Clarke let them, and she pulled on Lexa’s shirt, still that smelled of her shower after the game.

“Do you want to go to dinner with my family when they come?” Lexa pulled away as they made it to the bed.

Out of breath and grinding shamefully into the thigh that was between her legs, Clarke stared at the shadow above her. Even with a sexually-frustrated brain, she knew that it was an important conversation that they weren’t officially, but also officially having.

“Yeah,” Clarke swallowed. “Of course. Sure. Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smiled.

“Okay.”

Without another word, Lexa kissed the girl beneath her. Pressed closer and already enjoyed the smell of her in her sheets.


	4. Chapter 4

The apartment down on Saint James Place was a modern dream. Much too large for the single inhabitant, it was tucked on the top floor and full of windows that caught the sun as it came up over the river and city. It was a perfect hideaway in an old part of town, and solely because of its proximity to the stadium, did someone buy it, sight unseen.

But the big windows, the space, the kitchen– it all felt like home the moment she stepped inside. It was the perfect place to spend a day, and it’d been freshly cleaned for the off chance that a visitor wanted to come over.

The thing about mornings was, that no matter how late she got to sleep in her giant, perfect, pillow-smothered bed, Lexa couldn’t stay in much past the sun. It was exceptionally annoying for someone who frequently suffered jet lag. It was even more annoying for someone who bought expensive black out curtains and who did her best to sleep in late.

Even with the girl in her bed, Lexa found herself unable to sleep. She fell asleep of course, naked and sore and with a smile plastered on her lips with her arms around Clarke. She fell asleep with her lips on a bare shoulder and the feeling of warmth and a breathing, beautiful human keeping her company and lulling her toward dreams.

But it didn’t matter.

Lexa woke up without an alarm around seven, and spent a good chunk of time realizing she had a girl in her bed. And she didn’t want to wake her. But there was a girl in her bed and Lexa couldn’t stop smiling, and she couldn’t stop fidgeting, so she slipped out of the sheets and gently shut the door behind her. Because there was a girl. Sleeping. In her bed. And she wanted that the be a true sentence for as long as possible.

Normally, Lexa ran. She ran a lot. She ran all over the place. She ran so much she got lost and had to ask strangers for directions because it was suddenly an unfamiliar part of town. But she couldn’t very well leave a stranger in her place, and she couldn’t make a noise, and so she was stuck with an alarming amount of energy and no way to burn it off while she thought about Clarke.

Lexa brewed the coffee and had a piece of fruit as she mulled over her night. The memories made her too jittery though with remembering the noises Clarke made. And the way she cursed and clung and clutched and came. She was perfect and she was wonderful, and Lexa was pumping the brakes in her own head because she was caught up in the feeling of it all, and that scared her.

To distract herself from that, Lexa made herself workout. It didn’t stop the thoughts though. But still, she pushed aside the coffee table and went about stretching and going over it a million times in her head.

There was a pretty girl asleep in her bed, and Lexa wasn’t sure what came next except that she would be okay with it happening more often, which was not a thought she thought she’d have again.

Somewhere between her fifth or sixth circuit, Lexa gave up to the fate of it all and kept doing crunches with a smile. She didn’t notice the girl with the long legs poking out from her old practice shirt for a few moments. So lost in thought about how perfect her life was slowly and finally becoming, was Lexa, that she had to do a double take and flopped to the ground.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Lexa grunted, pushing herself up. “Did I wake you?”

“Unfortunately not,” Clarke yawned. “It’s a Saturday. Why are you awake and sweaty already without me?”

“Did you want to join me? We could go for a run.”

She earned a smirk and a shake of a head, messy blonde hair pushed back into a mess on top of her head. Clarke was the girl of her dreams.

“You give a girl a complex sneaking out of bed.”

From her spot on the ground, Lexa frowned and watched as this girl– the girl from her bed– how she walked around the living room. Hips swayed so naturally it was hypnotizing.

“Did you sleep okay? I made coffee.”

“I’ll have some,” she promised. “How long have you been up?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

“About two hours then,” Lexa figured, squinting slightly.

Thighs glided around the room and stood in front of the girl working out on the floor. They spread and straddled her until there was a beautiful girl, right on Lexa’s lap, and she still didn’t really know what to do with that.

“I would have trained you myself had you stayed in bed.”

Lexa moved her hands to Clarke’s hips. She liked her hips. She liked the warm little fuzzy feeling she got in her chest that crept up her neck when she saw Clarke.

“You are going to kill me.”

“Good morning,” she smiled.

“You look cute in the morning.”

“Only in the morning?”

“Yeah, mostly,” Lexa chuckled, earning a scowl until she kissed Clarke. “But also when you wear my jersey,” she kissed her again. “And when you smile. And when you laugh. And when you explain things to me. And when you steal food off my plate.”

“I’m too sneaky for you to notice.”

“That’s true.”

“You’re all sweaty,” Clarke complained as lips moved to her neck.

“You’re going to have to get used to that. I’m pretty much always sweaty.”

“That’s not true. I always see you when you’re freshly showered after the games.”

All Lexa could do was smile and shrug. She knew Clarke wasn’t complaining because there were hands skating along her abs and up her shoulders and against her neck as hips settled harder onto her own.

“Thanks for spending the night.”

“Thanks for having me over,” Clarke hummed, pulling back finally.

Tangled on the floor of Lexa’s big, old apartment, tucked at the top corner of her building that overlooked the stadium and the river and the city, the two smiled and blushed despite the position and the activities of the night before.

“Do you have any plans today?”

“Lunch at my parents. You?”

“Drinks with some of the team.”

“Would you want to spend the morning with me?”

“So much,” Lexa nodded.

“Good date?”

“Great date.”

“You’re agreeable in the mornings,” Clarke grinned, adjusting herself. “Last night you asked me to meet your family.”

“I did.”

“Did you mean it?”

With a deep breath, she finally nodded. It was no small thing, but they’d made it a few months, and they were doing something that felt so good and right, that Lexa did believe in it. She saw the signs that her mother always warned her about, she opened herself up to the world, completely on accident, and it paid dividends.

“Honestly, Anya probably won’t leave until she meets you. Might as well as do it on my terms.”

“So you’ve talked to her about me?”

“All of the time. She’s incredibly annoyed by it, I’m positive,” Lexa shrugged again. “But yeah. I don’t know when I’ll see her again. I’d like to introduce you.”

“So you can get her opinion before it gets too serious?” Clarke teased.

From the way she looked at Lexa’s lips and back to her eyes, from the way she smiled just slightly enough, but didn’t hide the little bit of truth to it. Lexa was too afraid to think such things, but she fell in love right there, with the teacher with the messy hair who was not that quiet when she came who baked great muffins and terrible cookies, who was abashed enough to be nervous about the state of their relationship despite straddling someone half naked.

“I don’t need her approval. If anything, it’s all up to Mia anyway.”

“I’m pretty good with kids.”

Before Lexa could say anything else, her phone began to vibrate. Lexa groaned because all she wanted to do was finish her work out with Clarke.

“Who calls you this early?” Clarke wondered, stretching to reach for it, earning hands squeezing her ass.

“I don’t care who. I have a half-naked girl on top of me.”

“Could be a billion dollar endorsement deal.”

“They can keep it,” she grumbled, laying back on the ground and slipping her hands up Clarke’s ribs as she stretched.

“Well, look at that. It’s your sister.”

“Definitely ignore it. She’ll understand.”

“She’ll understand you didn’t want to talk to her because of being naked with me? No way am I starting out on that foot,” Clarke decided, settling back down on Lexa. “I’m going to pick it up and you’ll talk to her. I’ll work on breakfast.”

“No– no no no–” Lexa groaned and closed her eyes.

“Hi, Lexa’s phone. She’s a bit tied down at the moment, so I picked up for her,” Clarke greeted whoever was on the other line. “Anya? Her sister? Hi. Yes, Clarke.”

“Just hang up. You’ll meet her soon enough.”

“She is complaining right now,” she chuckled into the phone, covering Lexa’s mouth with a free hand. “No no, it’s late where you are. You chat with her. I’m going to go make breakfast.”

“Wmmophmmphmmph.”

“Same to you. Have a good night.”

In a second, the phone was handed over and her mouth freed. Two seconds later, the weight left her lap and Lexa was left in the same position she’d been when Clarke woke up – sweaty and aching and alone.

“Hey, Anya. We were just talking about you,” Lexa muttered.

Lexa pushed herself up slightly onto an elbow to watch legs walk around the couch and head toward the coffee.

“I am so happy that a beautiful, leggy blonde answered your phone. Finally,” her sister all but cheered and celebrated. She might have been happier than Lexa, though that seemed impossible.

“Me too.”

“You sound happy.”

“I am.”

“I have to meet her, you know that, right?”

In the kitchen, Clarke didn’t pay attention at all. She poured a cup of coffee and filled up Lexa’s once again before digging into the fridge for some kind of sustenance. Lexa just watched and smiled to herself.

“Yeah. I know.”

“I just called to check up on you, but you’re clearly busy. Call me this week sometime, when you’re alone, okay?”

“Alright.”

“I love you, kid.”

“Love you too.”

Clarke hummed a tune as Lexa tossed her phone onto the couch. It was morning and she was on pace to break a single season scoring record and there was a pretty girl cooking breakfast without pants on. For a moment, she forgot even how to be sad.

* * *

The house on the end of the lane across town sat happily in the drizzle toward the end of winter. The Christmas lights were still blinking in the fog and the rain with the chill in the air that remained and refused to leave quite yet. It sat, just as it always had, full of warm lights and people.

“Pretty good turnout,” Octavia nudged her friend as they crowded around the television in the ancestral home.

“I know. I didn’t expect everyone to actually come. Must be the weather.”

The banner that hung in the dining room reminded everyone that it was a birthday, if the hats and the balloons and the cake weren’t enough. Clarke smiled as she surveyed the living room that was stacked with their friends, all celebrating her father. It even surprised him to have so many people who wanted to spend time wishing him well.

It didn’t hurt that there was a game on that he wanted to watch, nor did it bother him that he had captive audience to couch coach.

“How’s he been?”

“Better. Treatments are working they think.”

“That’s good, right?” Octavia asked as she sipped her drink.

Both stood there and gazed at the coach as he explained something that was happening. He waved his hands around and debated with an old colleague over something that happened forever ago, and was clearly better than whatever was happening now.

“I think days like this help.”

“Have you told him you’re dating his new favorite player?”

“Not yet,” Clarke furrowed and sipped her drink. “I promised him I’d never date another footballer.”

“That’s crazy. Doesn’t he know you’re destined to marry someone just like your father?”

“Please don’t ever say that again.”

“Clarke! Honey, did you see that?” Jake interrupted the impending joke Octavia was ready to crack at her friend’s expense. “That Woods. She’s a genius. The physics of that shot!”

“Looks like someone is crushing on your girl,” Octavia whispered.

“What is that, her first assist after already having two goals?” he beamed. “You know she wanted the hat trick. Still might get it. You don’t see players mad at not having a shot like her. Just look. That’s the part you have to see to determine the players skill.”

Clarke took the chance to look at the screen and watch a blue jersey that was identical to the one she was wearing, jog across the pitch. Even with the stellar game, Clarke spent enough time with the soccer player to see the frustration from her bad shot. It would probably weigh on her more than the goals she scored for some reason.

“I guess she’s pretty good,” Clarke agreed, hiding her blush in her drink.

“In bed,” Octavia whispered, earning an elbow.

“If I had a player like that when I coached, I’d have won every game.”

Someone raised their voice to argue with him and Clarke stared back at the screen. She took a second to send off a text to the player on the field, telling her how impressive she was.

For the past two months, it’d been a nice give and take. Clarke spent the night a few times, Lexa stayed at her’s a few more, and they got acquainted. Lexa liked to help Clarke grade assignments and enter them into her book. She liked to cook and complain about cleaning up. She liked to stretch out across Clarke’s smaller bed and rest with her head in the teacher’s lap while she read her book. The little parts of it all was perfect, and Clarke found herself getting used to it, even with the prolonged absences and Lexa’s travel schedule.

Watching her run around on the field, Clarke smiled to herself and ached slightly. She missed the soccer player. With another thought about it, she sent a final text that told her she was impressed, that her father was impressed, and that her bed was getting cold because it was empty.

“I thought it’d be closer,” Jake chuckled. “This team always surprises me.”

“Are you going to let her meet the parents?” Octavia asked, surveying the blush on her friend’s face.

“That’s a big step.”

“You met a superstar soccer player on accident and you frequently spend the night at her penthouse. It’s been like four months.”

“We’re comfortable. I don’t want anything to change.”

“I haven’t seen you happy in a while. I like it.”

“You like tickets to the game,” Clarke corrected with a wry grin as she finished her drink and earned a chuckle. “I’m going to get a refill. Keep an eye on him.”

“He’s in his glory. Let him have it.”

With a final look at Lexa sprinting down the field, Clarke moved toward the back of the house and wondered if they weren’t moving too fast as well.

* * *

“Mmm, you smell good,” Lexa hummed. “Let me smell your neck.”

“Stop!” Clark giggled as a nose rooted around beneath her ear and lips followed, tickling her earnestly.

“I can’t. You smell so good. You are all warm and cozy. I like you in the bath.”

“If you weren’t so sweaty all of the time, we could spend time out of the bathtub.”

“That’s not an incentive,” Lexa growled.

She let her hands slip around the soapy skin of Clarke’s stomach. She kissed her neck again and rested her chin on her shoulder, the sticky wet wisps of hair tickling her cheek.

“How’s your knee? I saw all of the tape. Is it still sore?”

“It is a little. It’ll be fine.”

“Your legs are so long,” Clarke observed, settling back deeper against Lexa’s chest and chasing water droplets up and down the leg that poked above the bubbles.

“Thank goodness,” she sighed, letting her head lean back against the tub, suddenly very happy with the penthouse’s much too big bathroom that she didn’t usually use.

“This scar is so pretty.”

Fingers moved along Lexa’s knee to the familiar cuts and raised pink skin of the scars on her body. She shook her head and chuckled slightly.

“No one ever says that about scars.”

“I do. I like them.”

Fingers rubbed at the soreness that was almost ever-present. Lexa didn’t want to, but she knew she could grow used to the feeling of it. There was a certain weight to Clarke’s hand. A warmth that existed beneath the water.

“You’re a peculiar one, Griffin.”

Lexa earned a hum of agreement as Clarke shifted lower in the water. She held Lexa’s knee and adjusted her legs to be more comfortable, but she didn’t ever move her hand. It felt too good and she was so tired from the past few weeks of traveling. She missed the feeling of Clarke.

“You have to leave again, don’t you?”

“Yeah, a few weeks,” Lexa grumbled, her arms wrapping tighter. “International rotation before playoffs. Are you going to root for me?”

“Of course I am.”

“Are you going to miss me?”

“I always miss you.”

“Getting attached?”

“Quite.”

Clarke smiled and kissed Lexa’s arm.

Candles hummed to themselves on the counters and in the bedroom, and not a light could be seen other than the golden glow of them. The rest of the penthouse was dark, with the faint lights of the city outside burning and shimmering against the river in the distance.

“So I have an event I have to go to in a few weeks, and I could use a date,” Lexa remembered. “I was hoping you’d know someone.”

“You want me to meet your family and go out with you?”

“I know. I’m being too needy, aren’t I?” Lexa sighed, smiling against Clarke’s hair. “I can tone it back, if you’d like.”

“Well, it’s all a bit of fate, isn’t it?”

“I’m impatient. You know this.”

“Lexa, I like you.”

“Thank goodness. I’d hate to think that you’d use me, just for my tub.”

“If anything, I’m using you just for sex. It’s a hike up here from my place. Very inconvenient.”

“But the tub though,” Lexa chuckled, kissing neck again.

“I’d love to go with you. But don’t you take a vacation?”

“Things will quiet down in… um…” Lexa remembered all of her responsibilities and endorsements and other duties as captain and someone who trained twenty-four seven. “Well, they never really quiet down, but I hope it’s worth it.”

“We should get out. The water is going to get cold.”

“We can get out, but I’m not going to put clothes on,” she stated, petulant and stubborn.

“Good.”

Lexa watched Clarke stand up. She watched the suds and the water drip off of her as she leaned over the edge and grabbed her towel. Lexa lingered in the water for a moment as the towel hid many wonderful things she enjoyed looking at.

“You’ll be my date then?”

“Oh, Lexa,” Clarke sighed. “I’ll be your date whenever you want. Have your people call my people to set it up.”

“It took a lot of courage to ask you, you know?”

“Why?”

“Because I like you a lot.”

“Good. I make an excellent date.”

“This means we’d be out in public, together.”

“No more blind dates for you.” Clarke leaned over the tub and kissed Lexa’s forehead. “Get out or you’ll turn into a prune.”

“You took my towel.”

“Guess you’ll have to come and get it,” she shrugged, backing out of the bathroom.

In a splash and a mess of water, Lexa hopped out and chased her girlfriend.


	5. Chapter 5

Under the covers, the cold couldn’t find anyone. In the bed, the world would pass by and not even notice. Through the dark, with the quiet and small little hums and thumps of the early hour, the pile of blankets finally moved as an alarm went off and was quickly silenced. A chorus of complaints growled from beneath the depths of the warmth and bodies tangled in the big bed. With an absent kiss on a bare shoulder, one side dipped slightly as legs were tossed over the side. A shadow gripped the side of the bed, rolled its neck before stretching arms toward the sky in a way to wake up tired muscles. And then it moved toward the hall without a hesitation or look back at the comfort it just left.

Somehow, Lexa was able to extricate herself from precious sleep next to a precious body that she was going to miss. She did it to not wake the teacher who was a week back in classes after break, and already exhausted by her kids and their boundless energy. It was the same teacher who still, despite the commute and long hours and work, made her way over the evening before to spend a final few hours together before someone’s departure for a few weeks of travel matches and training at home before friendlies.

So Lexa let Clarke sleep a little bit longer as she snuck into the hall, careful to close the door quietly behind herself.

Freshly back from the holidays with her sister, Lexa stretched a little more as she made her way down the hall, testing out her body and preparing it for the day ahead. She still had a few hours before her flight, and she desperately needed to go for a run or something, but she couldn’t make herself want to rush. There’d be enough of that soon enough.

While she measured out the coffee, going through the motions without any focus on it, she thought about her schedule, repeating it to herself so as to pin it to the forefront of her memory, but such vigilance was not to count down the days until she was back with Clarke. It simply wasn’t. There was no way she’d think like that.

Her shoulders strained and held as she moved her head around to stretch her neck while the coffeemaker gurgled to life. There was something to the way she was allowing herself to feel about the teacher in her bed that felt so natural and unexpected, she hadn’t realized how it got so strong, so quickly.

In just a few months, her sister would visit, and Lexa wanted to introduce them. She wanted to share Clarke with her sister, and she wanted them to know that they were the most important people to her. That was a thought that Lexa caught herself having, and it made her confused and terrified and fate was suddenly a dangerous thing to encounter.

She gave herself up to it, and now look where it got her; on the verge of happiness. And if she had happiness, than she would have the capacity to lose it, because you can’t lose something you don’t have. And what if her happiness pushed away the sadness. The sadness had been the defining factor in her determination and drive. The grief and the pain fueled her, lit her engines, kept her burning, and if it was pushed aside, then what would make her never lose sight of the plan, the future, her goals.

The coffee percolated, and Lexa spun out in a matter of minutes, all because there was a girl in her bed, and she was going to miss her quite dearly. Being awake was a terrible thing.

“Hey,” Clarke greeted her, trudging along and squinting against the light as she yawned and rubbed an eye.

Hair a wavy mess, lips slightly puffy, eyes unable to adjust to the light quick enough, Lexa felt her brain lose all train of thought when Clarke appeared. She’d have those thoughts again, she was sure. It was impossible to not be afraid of the idea of a future.

“Hey, morning,” Lexa rushed.

“I need coffee or I’ll die.”

“A tad dramatic first thing in the morning, aren’t you?” she teased as Clarke took a seat at the stool across from her at the counter.

With a face, Clarke flopped down, draping herself across the concrete top, propping herself up on her arm, unable to keep herself up on her own accord.

“I’m far from dramatic.”

“Not that far.”

“Says the girl that was almost sad I said I might not make it last night.”

“I was sad, but I understood.”

Lexa shrugged and pulled two mugs, carefully preparing Clarke’s the way she liked it. She only filled hers up slightly, still not a fan of the taste, but needing it to survive the day.

“I’m just saying that you’re equally as dramatic, if not more. I’ve seen you play. You get bumped and you flop around.”

Not even the smell of the coffee roused Clarke. She still leaned against her hand and cupped the mug to suck its warmth to herself.

“She broke my nose!” Lexa yelped. “I was pouring blood onto the field! From my face!”

“See?” Clarke yawned again and finally sipped. “So dramatic.”

There was nothing she could do to fight it, so Lexa just rolled her eyes and shook her head before setting her mug down and leaning her hip against the counter. The windows were all dark, and the city outside was twinkling even more, shimmering in the cold of the late winter frost that seemed perpetually set.

“The car will be here in about an hour,” Lexa muttered finally.

“And then you’re going to tour the world.”

“Just a few weeks.”

“I’m glad though. You really need to train,” Clarke nodded slightly. “You’re leading the league in goals and assists and wins and time played, but I’m just not seeing the drive.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you were such a critic.”

“You should hear my dad.”

“The Griffins are hard to impress.”

“We are.”

Despite herself, Lexa grinned and put her mug down before looking at Clarke and feeling the little part of her chest start to glow.

“And what should I do to impress you?”

“Hm,” she mulled and sipped her coffee. “Don’t come back if you don’t get at least one hat trick, and I would like ten goals.”

“Just ten?”

“If you can.”

“Tall order.”

“Maybe I’ll find another soccer player who doesn’t think it’s that hard,” Clarke shrugged, the mischievous grin appearing despite the tired she tried to fight still.

“I thought you quit footballers.”

“I have. Sworn them off completely.”

“Good. You’ll be waiting when I get back then,” Lexa decided, sighing with mock-relief as if she’d won the battle of the wits and trapped the teacher.

“I guess we’ll see what fate has in store for us.”

But it was fate, and Lexa trusted it for some reason, even if it was the scariest thing she’d ever done, because her mother believed in fate, and Lexa wanted to believe that she was still around, helping out as best she could.

* * *

For the fourth Sunday in a row, Clarke found herself stretched out lethargically on her parent’s couch, while the rain drizzled outside, and the cold tried to seep in beneath the doorways. It was no match for the fire that crackled and was attended to dutifully by her father between games and snacks, and the living room was oppressively warm, the same kind of warm that made it a little difficult to breathe, and was conducive to napping.

Eyes growing heavy, Clarke’s head bobbed slightly before catching herself, and yawning.

“You look worse than I do,” her father muttered with a grin as his daughter adjusted slightly on the couch. “Close your eyes. You work too hard.”

“I’m fine,” she lied with another yawn that failed to be contained behind the back of her hand.

“You aren’t getting enough sleep. Those kids are running you ragged.”

“My kids are great.”

“I just watched a news report about overcrowding in schools,” he explained. “Teachers with classes of thirty or more kids. It’s untenable.”

“My class is just fine, I promise,” Clarke smiled and got even cozier. “You should read a book instead of watching so much TV.”

“I feel like I’ve read every book. I’m so bored here anymore. The worst part about getting better, is that I’m still too sick to do anything. It’s a prison.”

“Wow, I’m sorry that you’re inconvenienced with recovering.”

From the couch, Clarke tilted her head back to look at her father’s eye roll and she smiled to herself.

She still didn’t have the heart to admit that perhaps Lexa going away for a few weeks was a blessing in disguise. It meant she was less distracted and able to spend more time with her parents, and somehow Clarke was able to self-delude herself into thinking she was actually helping her father feel better.

However, on the flip side, Clarke also wasn’t able to admit that she was yawning and tired and unable to fight off the need for a npa because she was up until dawn talking to a girl across the planet who regaled her with stories of being home and practicing and planning and training. Somewhere between ‘hey’ and ‘sleep well,’ there were those conversations that go best over the phone on the other side of the planet; the talks of fears and hopes and dreams and guilts and sins and plans– the things that truly define a person, and as such, are the most difficult to say, and when said, to be spoken with whole honesty.

Clarke didn’t really know how to explain that, and so she adjusted on the couch and prepared to take her father up on the offer for a short nap between games.

It was a short nap, but Clarke woke to the window being a little bit more grey than before, and the rain tapping its familiar song on the panes. The noise of her father shuffling back into his chair with a new round of medications was an alarm Clarke was not used to hearing, but was comforting nonetheless.

Quietly, Clarke rolled over and faced the television. The smell of dinner wafted and added to the heat in the room until her cheeks were flush, but she didn’t care. The television drew her attention.

“Have a good rest?” Jake asked between pills and gulps.

“Mmm, I guess I did need it,” Clarke acquiesced. “Somehow naps feel better on this couch than my own. I’m not sure how.”

“Home.”

“Maybe that’s it.”

“It’s been nice having you here the past few weekends. I look forward to it.”

“Me too.”

“But isn’t it a little boring?” Jake prodded. “Hanging with your old man? You’re young. You should be out having fun.”

“I don’t think I’ve had more fun than that nap, to be honest.”

“Who raised you?” he shook his head in mock disapproval.

With another yawn Clarke just smiled and sat up slightly as the program shifted to the international friendly coverage. Almost immediately, talk shifted to Lexa, and Clarke held her breath without even noticing.

Face blank and focused, the camera shifted to Lexa as she stretched and began her warm ups with a info box about her stats for the year. The announcers were in awe, celebrating her play and growth and recovery from her injury a few years before, while soon a montage of her greatest feats rolled.

“Hey, Dad, when do you have your next appointment?” Clarke asked, barely turning her head from the screen.

“Hmm, I think on the third of next month. I’d have to check with your mother. Why?”

“I have someone I want you to meet.”

“So your mother was right,” he sighed. “You are dating someone.”

“I am. I hav– Wait, what?”

“She’s always right. It’s ridiculous,” her father lamented. “I don’t know how she does it, but she’s spot on, all the time.”

“It’s kind of complicated.”

“If it’s that stupid kid that had the worst instincts on a player I’d ever seen, I swear, you’ll kill me, Clarke. You will.”

“Please stop saying that,” she groaned and shook her head as he chuckled to himself, always happy to make light of his situation.

“When do I get to meet the lucky lad then? I promise to be on my best behavior.”

Clarke tugged at the collar of her shirt and swallowed the words that seemed to sit in her mouth and not want to do anything but tie themselves into knots and sit in her throat.

“There’s a match on the tenth of next month I want to take you to, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“ have to watch him play, too? Can’t we just have him for dinner and I pretend to have an episode and he leaves early and I get cake?” Jake grumbled. “You know I hate soccer players. They just want to talk about the game, and not you.”

“Finn was a douchebag, I get it,” Clarke relented. “But that was the only boyfriend I let you meet.”

“I’m scarred for life, you know.”

“I made a no soccer player rule after him, but I can’t explain it–”

“Do I know them?”

Interest mildly peaked, Jake Griffin watched his daughter debate how to answer the questions. And while it was true that he hadn’t endured too many crushes and boyfriends or girlfriends, as his daughter was apt to remind him, the last one did a number on his daughter, and as wary as she was, he felt it ten times as much. He’d take cancer toe-to-toe sixteen times over than endure the pain of knowing his daughter is aching and being unable to immediately fix it.

“Kind of. You’ve heard of her.”

“A girl footy player? Okay.”

Clarke took a deep breath and looked back at the screen before deciding it was finally time to tell her parents. It was getting serious, and she was certain that six months from this moment, she’d regret not sharing it. She wanted her father to know her, to be part of her life even more now. She needed it.

“Lexa Woods.”

For a moment, even the television was silent, as if it was shocked and not just delayed between advertisements. From his chair, Jake Griffin mulled over the name, complete in his disbelief.

“Like, best in the world, Lexa Woods?” he asked for clarification, asi if there was another. His daughter nodded. “Has a billboard twenty stories high downtown, Lexa Woods?” She nodded again. “Her?” he yelped, pointing at the screen as it showed the player in question.

“Yeah.”

“Are you kidding me? How?”

“It just happened. A bit of fate. I can’t explain it.”

Heart beating in his ears, Clarke’s father furrowed and watched his favorite player juggle the ball and send it across the pitch with such precision, it seemed impossible.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Dad, I’m positive,” Clarke smiled and shook her head.

“Prove it.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s Lexa Woods!”

“What is all the yelling!” Abby entered a few seconds later, wiping her hands in a towel as she put them on her hips. “If you’re going to over-exert yourself, I’ll turn off the television.”

“Your daughter said she’s dating Lexa Woods.”

“Who?”

“The soccer player,” Jake informed his wife as he looked at the screen. “She’s trying to kill me.”

“Stop saying that,” Abby groaned at the dramatics her husband seemed incapable of forgetting despite his retirement. “And so what? She dated that other soccer player. The weird guy.”

“He wasn’t weird,” Clarke tried to defend herself.

“He was so weird,” Abby explained persistently. “The no-players rule was yours.”

“To be fair, I did agree to it,” Clarke interjected.

“Prove it’s Lexa Woods,” Jake shook his head. “You can’t just show up here and take a nap and then drop that on me.”

“I didn’t plan on telling you, but it came out.”

“I just want to know how it happened?”

“We ran into each other a few times, and she asked me out,” Clarke shrugged, smiling at her father’s disbelief. “It’s not that good of a story. I’ve never seen you so star-struck. You’ve coached Golden Boot winners. You’ve won Olympic medals!”

“I’m just surprised is all,” Jake sighed as he sat back in his chair and shook his head, eyes looking far off as his mind raced.

Clarke looked at Lexa on the screen once again before digging through her pocket to find her phone. She flipped to a picture and leaned forward for her father to see it.

“She’s your biggest fan, and I mean really. She admired you when you played, and even more when you coached. She hounds me about the great Jake Griffin. It’s oddly annoying sometimes.”

“That’s— that’s you and… and that’s Lexa Woods,” Jake furrowed as he looked at the picture. “How in the world–?”

“So, the game on the tenth?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Cool. You’ll meet my girlfriend then.”

“Serious?”

“Yeah, I think it is,” Clarke nodded.

The camera followed Lexa as she dribbled the ball, moving gracefully through the defenders. Clarke and her father watched with different kinds of observations, but each with a separate appreciation for her gifts.

It was all a bit of fate, really.


	6. Chapter 6

The best thing to happen in her entire life was the headphone deal. She didn’t think it as she listened to the deep heavy drums and bass that pounded in her ears. Even without the endorsements she’d be sitting in much the same position, with much the same songs, and much the same butterflies having a little mosh in the pit of her heart.

It was early, to start the day– much earlier than almost anyone else, but that was part of the ritual. The same ritual that included a quiet walk and a good breakfast. It involved a certain type of socks and a certain rhythm to the ay. Lexa spent the morning tuning into the sound of it all, to find her rhythm, to locate herself in the world.

As everyone started to arrive, she began her stretches. The beat of the day dictated her movements as she felt her body warm and grow ready for the task at hand.

Focus was never something Lexa thought difficult to find. There were always difficult games and tough matches and people counting on her. She felt the steady pressure, and just grew accustomed to having it on her chest.

Sitting at her locker, Lexa hunched her shoulders and listened to her music, and she felt the readiness seep into her muscles. She was aching to go run, she was dying to kick and feel the wind and the grass and the cheers that echoed in her chest cavity. Only when it got to be too much, did she stand up and look at the picture in her locker, taped to the side– of her mother and her at a soccer-themed birthday party when she was younger. Only then did Lexa smile and close her eyes and clear her mind of plays and movements and everything she’d been learning to train for each match for a moment of peace.

During it all, everyone knew not to talk to Lexa. It wasn’t a spoken rule, and no one ever brought it up. She was just someone who looked like they were doing something important and shouldn’t be bothered.

Out on the field, there were the first few signs of life as everything began to open before the game that had the entire city buzzing. Lexa walked the field and stretched her arms and leisurely gazed across it all.

There was always a nervousness to games that the rituals all helped. The music drowned out the noise and the walking kept the twitching in her bones to a minimum, while the stretching and the focusing kept her from burning off energy she’d need quite badly.

There should have been some nerves about Clarke and her dad, but Lexa didn’t have any just yet. She liked Clarke, and she idolized her father, but there was this underlying feeling of okay. It was fate, and that gave her confidence and ease.

“Hey! You ready to run some drills to warm up?”

Lexa nodded and took a deep breath and prepared, her rituals complete.

* * *

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine.”

“If you’re lying, we’ll have to leave.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“I’m serious–”

“Clarke, I’m going to throw myself down the bloody stairs if you don’t stop asking me if I’m okay,” Jake complained.

“I don’t want to hear it from Mom,” his daughter explained quickly, just as pissy and annoyed with having her mother asking her the same questions, blowing up her phone at an alarming rate.

“We’ll hear about it no matter what,” he reminded her as he extended his arm for her to grab, smiling as he always did when he got to spend time with her.

It was almost weird to be back at a stadium with her father. She was too young to remember him coaching in it for a few years, but she remembered others, and the feeling of being near him when he was watching a game.

Lexa’s picture, a hundred feet long, met them at the front of the stadium, strung alongside it. As they walked toward the side entrance, Clarke squinted and tried not to contemplate what a brilliant metaphor it was for the immensity of the day, both the game and the inevitable interactions.

But Clarke smiled and followed her dad as they were met by handlers and the people that hosted them in their box before they would go to their seats. For an hour, Clarke listened to everyone rave about what a worthwhile investment her girlfriend was, and she didn’t know how to respond, because she didn’t think anyone knew, so she just beamed and agreed and feigned interested in the sport in general.

By the time they made it to their seats, Clarke was brimming with an eagerness she hadn’t really recognized before, just to see a girl.

Sure enough, out on the field, Lexa was all business, and she was talented beyond measure, a point Jake made a few dozen times as he coached to his daughter about the finer points of theory.

“I don’t think you’ve ever asked me to meet one of your partners,” Jake realized as he took a swig of his beer. “I’m not complaining, I just think it’s interesting.”

The game was already in motion, people running up and down, juggling the ball and the crowd getting into every possibility. Her father lived for the beauty of it, and Clarke saw it.

“Only because for some reason she’s a fan of you,” she shrugged and watched as Lexa danced through the lights on the field, moving gracefully, cutting through two defenders.

Clarke held her breath and gripped her armrest a little tighter. The shot was deflected but only barely, and the crowd let their disappointment be known.

“That looked like a damn good kick. The goalie is still dazed.”

“She’ll get a goal any second. Something about being denied fuels her.”

“Feisty and determined. I like it.”

Clarke smiled to herself and watched Lexa’s team move around like a well-oiled machine, functioning at a high level across the board. It was going to be an easier game than expected if they kept going they way they were.

“Lexa wanted to meet you, but I didn’t try to dissuade her. I wanted you to meet her.”

It felt like much more of a confession than Clarke wanted it to be, but she didn’t care. She watched Lexa score and she hopped out of her chair as her father cheered loudly, clapping and screaming and alive in a way she hadn’t seen him in a long while.

All joy and excitement, Lexa held out her arms as the stadium erupted and was swallowed up by her team as they tackled her to the ground to celebrate.

“Must be serious.”

“It is for me.”

“For her?”

“I think so,” Clarke decided, furrowing at the thought as everyone calmed and took back to their seats.

“You might want to get some clarification on that,” Jake offered. “Just to be sure. I’ll still meet her, but she sets the bar kind of high for future prospects.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and nudged her dad slightly as he chuckled.

“It’s fate.”

* * *

As much as there was a ritual to the game, to preparing, to executing, everything that happened after was dictated by the actual game itself. Once the hubbub on the field died down, Lexa showered quickly and faced the crowd of waiting reporters, eager to dissect her every movement. She lived for those questions, to hear what worked and what didn’t, to see what was caught an what wasn’t, to hopefully be gracious and accept congratulations if all went well.

Thankfully, all went well with Jake Griffin watching, and Lexa ended the game with two goals and an assist– much below her girlfriend’s standards, but hopefully good enough for her father.

“She’s one of the most exceptional players I’ve ever seen play,” Jake explained as the cameras trained on the legend. “Strategically, physically, her eye, her movement, so fluid. Honestly, I’m blown away.”

Certain she was making a ridiculous face, Lexa couldn’t help but stare at the coach who defined her existence, and also the father of her girlfriend, say such nice things about her. She smiled as she approached and caught Clarke, who gave her an embarrassed grin.

“The woman of the hour,” Jake smiled and held out his hands. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“No, no, it’s… it’s so nice to meet you,” Lexa shook it eagerly. “An honor, really.”

“And she’s got quite a grip,” he laughed as Lexa let go and chuckled nervously.

Lexa blushed and smiled to Clarke who leaned against a far wall in the hallway outside of the locker room where the reporters asked a few questions of the pair. From time to time, Lexa would look at her and saw Clarke bite her lip and smile, and that was a difficult thing to comprehend with her father standing beside her, who happened to be her idol.

“I am doing much better. The doctors are taking care of everything,” Jake explained. “And this was a wonderful experience to come back to the sport I love and watch such an amazing game with, who I’m going to call, the best player.”

The camera’s shifted slightly to Lexa’s face.

“And I… I am probably the happiest person on the planet now.”

The room laughed along with her and she earned a wink from her girlfriend, and meant every word of it.

* * *

Dinner was amazing, better than she ever could have wished. Clarke watched her two favorite people get along and talk, at first about their shared interest and passion, and then a bit more personal. Lexa was more Lexa than before, when they were at the stadium. She was the girl Clarke met in a bar in the middle of the night.

“It went really good right?” Lexa asked once again as she peaked out of the bathroom, toothbrush slightly hanging from her mouth.

“Do you mean the game that you won in front of sixty thousand people, or meeting your lifelong idol, or are you referring to the sex?”

“Meeting your dad, obviously,” she shook her head and disappeared again into the bathroom to spit.

The water ran for a little while longer as Clarke rolled her eyes and adjusted, pulling the sheets up and grabbing her phone to scroll through absently. It was much too late to be thinking about anything at all, and it’d been a long day.

“I think it went very well. You both hit it off.”

The bed in Lexa’s was big and familiar. Clarke stretched out and slid a leg out from the sheets, the city gleamed outside, and she didn’t really care about anything. The nerves of the day dissipated almost immediately. The light turned off in the bathroom a few seconds after the water was stopped.

Over the top of her phone, Clarke surveyed her girlfriend as she drank a glass of water in nothing more than an old pair of shorts. She bit her lip and blushed, even though no one was around to see it.

“I really like your dad. I suppose that means we’re getting pretty serious,” Lexa muttered, nonchalant and chill as she could pretend to be.

“You suppose?”

“I just mean that it’s been going well, and I met your dad.”

“I’ll beat you up if you propose.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” she rolled her eyes before flopping into bed. Lexa wiggled until she was half on Clarke’s legs, half between them, and fully lethargic atop her body. Clarke smiled and accepted warm, minty lips.

“I’m good with where we’re at if you are.”

“I am very good,” Lexa wiggled her eyebrows. “But I was thinking that I do think it would be nice if you met my sister when she comes.”

“That’s a big step.”

“Not as big as meeting your dad.”

“You loved him, yes, but your sister is… you two are very close.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m slightly intimidated,” Clarke admitted.

The warmth radiated around and between, and neither moved much, accepting the feeling of being next to each other was enough. Lexa didn’t know how to admit things like that it felt good to be there or that she was okay with everything or that she wanted so badly to freeze time, so instead, she dropped her chin and buried her nose in her girlfriend’s ribs and breathed a few times, smothering herself in her skin.

“She’ll love you.”

“Fate is easy, but real life is so hard.”

“Yeah, but I had to impress my idol who happens to be my girlfriend’s dad. Your’s will go much smoother.”

“I don’t believe you,” Clarke grunted, moving her hips slightly.

“Mia is going to be the tough one to impress.”

“I teach kids for a living, you know?”

“She’s a tough kid,” Lexa shrugged. “Now tell me everything your dad said about me when I went to the bathroom.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and toyed with the muscles of Lexa’s back. She ran her fingernails along the skin there and huffed before giving in quite easily.


End file.
